GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

• 4 

Vi* 

‘ THE  SATIRIST  OF  THE  VICTORIANS 

9 

A REVIEW  OF  HIS  ART  AND  PERSONALITY 

; 

T.  MARTIN  WOOD 

# , 

y 


♦ * 

J0> 


# 


4 

WITH  PHOTOGRAVURE  PORTRAIT  AND  NUMEROUS 
ILLUSTRATIONS  FROM  HIS  PRIVATE  SKETCH- 
BOOK AND  OTHER  SOURCES 


i 

I 

Du  Maurier  is  best  known  to  Americans  as  the  Author  of  “Trilby,” 
“ Peter  Ibbetson,”  and  “ The  Martian,”  but  he  was  pre-eminently  the 
satirist  of  the  Victorian  Era,  his  wit  and  satire  being  conveyed  as  much 
by  his  drawings  as  by  his  writings.  Here,  then,  is  not  only  a sketch  of 
the  author’s  life,  but  a valuable  estimate  of  his  art — graphic  and  literary — 
illustrated  with  examples  of  both. 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

THE  SATIRIST  OF  THE  VIC- 
TORIANS • A REVIEW  OF  HIS 
ART  AND  PERSONALITY  • BY 
T.  MARTIN  WOOD 


NEW  YORK 

McBRIDE,  NAST  & COMPANY 
1 9 1 3 


WITH  FORTY-ONE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


TO 


ARTHUR  CLIFTON 


I 


PREFACE 


Du  Maurier  worked  for  periodicals  which  buried 
in  a back  number  each  phase  of  his  work  as  it  came 
to  an  end.  Thus  it  is  that  he  is,  unfortunately, 
chiefly  now  remembered  by  the  last  — the  most 
accessible,  but  not  by  any  means  the  finest — period 
of  his  work. 

The  present  book  is  an  attempt  to  correct  this 
and  to  bring  forward  du  Maurier’s  name  again  in 
the  light  of  his  earlier  achievement. 

No  book  on  the  artist,  however,  would  be  com- 
plete which  omitted  all  reference  to  his  literary 
attainment  ; nor  would  it  be  in  order  in  an  essay 
of  this  extent  not  to  seek  to  demonstrate  that 
connection  which  always  exists  between  the  life  and 
the  work  of  an  artist  of  distinctive  temperament. 
The  author  has  endeavoured,  in  the  chapter  devoted 
to  outlining  the  main  incidents  of  du  Mauriers 
career,  to  regard  the  feeling  of  his  representa- 
tives that  the  autobiography  of  the  novels  is  itself 

vii 


Vlll 


PREFACE 


so  complete  and  sensitive  as  scarcely  to  call  at  present 
for  anything  supplemental.  He  wishes  to  acknow- 
ledge the  kindness  of  the  artist’s  family  in  lending 
him  portraits,  sketch-books,  and  manuscript  with 
the  permission  for  reproduction  ; also  of  Mr.  W. 
Lawrence  Bradbury,  so  zealous  a guardian  of  all 
that  redounds  to  the  fame  of  his  great  journal,  for 
every  kind  of  assistance  ; and  of  Sir  Francis  Burnand, 
du  Maurier’s  Editor  and  comrade,  for  letters  assisting 
him  to  form  an  impression  of  du  Maurier  in  the 
flesh.  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder  & Co.  have  also  been 
generous  in  allowing  the  reproduction  of  the  four 
drawings  included  here,  which  appeared  originally 
in  the  Gornhill  Magazine . The  author  only  wishes 
that  he  felt  that  what  he  has  written  more  justified 
this  consideration  from  everyone  who  was  approached 
in  connection  with  his  undertaking. 


CONTENTS 

TAGK 

I.  THE.  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  i 

II.  THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER  43 

III.  DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR  87 

IV.  LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST  119 

V.  THE  ILLUSTRATIONS  176 


IX 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


George  du  Maurier,  from  a Portrait  in  Water-colour 
by  Himself 

Illustration  for  “Recollections  of  an  English 
Gold-mine”:  Once  a Week , 1861 

“The  Cilician  Pirates”:  The  Cornhill , 1863 

Illustration  for  “Wives  and  Daughters”:  The 
Cornhill , 1864 

Illustration  for  “Wives  and  Daughters”:  The 
Cornhill , 1865 

Sketch  for  Above 

Pencil  Studies  from  the  Artist’s  Sketch-book 

Illustration  for  “ A Legend  of  Camelot  ” — Part 
III:  Punch , 1866 

Initial  Letter  from  The  Cornhill 

Illustration  for  “The  Story  of  a Feather”:  1867 

Illustration  for  “The  Story  of  a Feather”:  1867 

“Caution”:  Punch , 1867 

Berkeley  Square,  5 p.m.  : Punch  1867 

xi 


Frontispiece 

Facing  p.  8 
18 

26 

30 

36 

5° 

56 

64 

68 

76 

84 


92 


Xll 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Illustration  for  “Esmond”  Facing  p.  98 

Illustration  for  “ The  Adventures  of  Harry  Rich- 
mond” : The  Corn  hill,  1870  106 

Illustration  for  “ The  Adventures  of  Harry  Rich- 
mond”: The  Cornhill,  1871  114 

“ Proxy”  : Punch’s  Almanack , 1874  120 

Queen  Prima-Donna  at  Home:  Punch , 1874  130 

Honour  where  Honour  is  Due:  Punch , 1880  138 

Canon  Ainger,  from  a Portrait  in  Water-colour  by 

du  Maurier  144 

The  Mutual  Admirationists  : Punch , 1880  148 

Manuscript  156 

George  du  Maurier,  from  a Photograph  164 

Speed  the  Parting  Guest:  Punch , 1883  172 

Sketch  for  Initial  Letter  in  The  Cornhill,  1883  17 6 

“Sic  Transit  Gloria  Mundi \”  Punch,  1884  182 

Post-Prandial  Pessimists:  Punch,  1892  188 

Things  one  would  rather  have  expressed  Dif- 
ferently: Punch,  1893  194 

There  are  also  several  Tailpieces \ chronologically  arranged 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

i 

THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER 

§1 

We  have  in  the  portfolio  of  du  Maurier  the  epic 
of  the  drawing-room.  Many  of  the  Victorians, 
including  the  Queen,  and  Alfred  Lord  Tennyson* 
seem  to  have  viewed  life  from  the  drawing-room 
window.  They  gazed  straight  across  the  room 
from  the  English  hearthrug  as  from  undoubtedly 
the  greatest  place  on  earth.  They  were  probably 
right.  But  some  of  this  confidence  has  gone. 
Actually  in  these  days  there  are  people  who  won’t 
own  up  to  having  a drawing-room  at  all.  If  they 
have  a room  that  could  possibly  answer  to  such  a 
description,  they  go  out  of  their  way  to  call  it  the 
library,  though  its  only  available  printed  matter  is 

A 


2 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


a Bradshaw  ; or  the  music-room,  though  the  only 
music  ever  heard  in  it  is  when  the  piano  is  dusted. 

In  turning  over  the  old  volumes  of  Punch  it  is 
surprising  how  many  of  the  points  made  by  du 
Maurier  in  his  drawings  and  in  the  legends  beneath 
them  still  hold  good.  As  a mere  “joker  ” he  was  per- 
haps the  least  able  of  the  Punch  staff.  His  influence 
began  when  he  started  inventing  imaginary  conver- 
sations. In  many  cases  these  do  not  represent  the 
discussion  of  topical  subjects  at  all,  but  deal  with 
social  aberrations,  dated  only  in  the  illustration  by 
the  costume  of  the  time. 

In  these  imaginary  conversations  he  is  already 
a novelist.  They  record  the  strokes  of  finesse  and 
the  subterfuges  necessary  to  the  attainment  of  the 
vain  ambitions  which  are  the  preoccupation  of 
human  genius  in  superficial  levels  of  Society  in 
all  ages.  We  realise  the  waste  of  energy  and 
diplomacy  expended  to  score  small  points  in  the 
social  game.  His  art  is  a mirror  to  weed-like 
qualities  of  human  nature  which  enjoy  a spring- 
time with  every  generation.  But  it  also  provides 
a remarkable  record  of  the  effect  of  the  sudden  re- 
placement of  old  by  new  ideals  in  the  world  which 
it  depicted. 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  3 

The  rise  of  the  merchant  capitalist  upon  the 
results  of  industrial  enterprises  rendered  possible 
through  the  invention  and  rapid  perfecting  of 
machinery,  created  a class  who  suddenly  appeared 
in  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  aristocrats  as  strangers. 
Du  Maurier  himself  seems  to  join  in  the  amazement 
at  their  intrusion.  Much  of  this  first  surprise  is 
the  theme  of  his  art.  Before  the  death  of  the  artist 
the  newcomers  had  proved  their  right  to  be  there, 
having  shamed  an  Aristocracy,  which  had  lost 
nearly  all  its  natural  occupations,  by  bringing  home 
to  it  the  fact  that  the  day  was  over  for  despising 
men  who  traded  instead  of  fighting,  who  achieved 
through  barter  what  the  brave  would  once  have 
been  too  proud  to  take  except  by  conquest.  The 
business  of  the  original  division  of  human  possessions 
by  the  sanguinary  method  was  well  over  ; it  was 
now  the  merchant’s  day.  It  was  plain  that  trade 
could  no  longer  be  despised,  when,  literally  in  an 
age  of  peace  and  inventive  commerce,  indolence 
was  the  only  alternative  to  engagement  in  it. 

Du  Maurier  was  very  tolerant  to  social  intruders 
when  they  were  pretty.  He  rather  entered  into 
Mrs.  de  Tomkyns’  aims,  and  showed  it  by  making 
her  pretty.  Her  ends  might  not  be  the  highest,  but 


4 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


the  tact  and  the  subtlety  displayed  in  her  campaign 
were  aristocratic  in  character,  and  he  would  not 
have  her  laughed  at  personally,  though  we  may 
laugh  at  the  topsy-turvy  of  a Society  in  which 
the  entrance  into  a certain  drawing-room  becomes 
the  full  reward  for  the  perseverance  of  a lifetime. 
But  du  Maurier  shuddered  when  behind  this  lady, 
distinguished  in  the  fact  of  the  possession  of  genius, 
he  saw  a multitude  of  the  aspirateless  at  the  door. 
We  never  lose  upon  the  face,  which  showed  as  his 
through  his  art,  the  expression  of  well-bred  resent- 
ment, yet  certainly  of  amusement  also. 

During  the  period  of  du  Maurier’s  work  for 
Punch  the  actor  gets  his  position  in  Society  ; and 
we  see  desolate  gentlemen  in  other  professions  drift- 
ing about  at  the  back  of  the  room  like  ships  that 
drag  their  anchor,  while  all  the  feminine  blandish- 
ment of  the  place  is  concentrated  on  the  actor.  By 
following  up  his  drawings  we  can  see  the  whole 
surface  of  Victorian  Society  change  in  character  ; 
we  can  see  one  outrageous  innovation  after  another 
solidify  into  what  was  correct. 

There  never  was  a period  like  the  Victorian  ; 
in  many  respects  the  precedents  of  all  older  periods 
of  Society  fail  to  apply.  In  it  the  aristocrats 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  5 

believed  in  democracy,  and  resented  the  democrat 
who  was  practically  their  own  creation.  While  the 
democrat  held  no  faith  with  the  same  fervour  as 
his  belief  that  “whatsoever  is  lovely  and  of  good 
report  ” could  only  be  obtained  by  mingling  with 
the  upper  classes.  It  was  the  commercial  glory  of 
the  great  Industrial  Reign  that  turned  the  whole 
character  of  London  Society  upside  down  in  du 
Maurier’s  time.  It  became  the  study  of  the  Suburbs 
to  model  themselves  on  Mayfair,  to  imitate  its 
“ rages  ” and  “ crazes  ” in  every  shade.  It  is  all 
the  vanities  of  this  emulation  which  du  Maurier  re- 
cords ; there  is  little  in  his  art  to  betray  the  great  in- 
fluences Ecclesiastically,  scientifically,  and  politically, 
which  expressed  the  genius  of  the  Victorians.  His 
splendid  Bishops  are  as  tranquil  as  if  the  controversial 
Newman,  and  Gladstone  with  his  Disestablishment 
progamme,  had  never  disturbed  the  air.  And  one 
fancies  that  politics  must  have  bored  him,  so  studi- 
ously does  he  through  over  thirty  years  avoid  even 
a slanting  glance  at  the  events  which  preoccupied 
Mr.  Punch  in  his  cartoons.  There  is  evidence  that 
there  was  more  than  the  policy  of  the  Paper  in 
this.  Du  Maurier  was  an  optimist.  An  optimist 
is  a man  who  thinks  that  everything  is  going  right 


6 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


when  it  is  going  wrong.  It  requires  an  effort  of 
the  imagination  to  recall  and  picture  the  fact  that 
in  the  first  hour  of  Du  Maurier’s  mere  amusement 
Ruskin  was  adding  his  lachrymation  to  Carlyle’s 
over  a society  going  swiftly  to  Gehenna.  It  is  the 
entire  absence  of  despair,  bitterness,  or  cynicism  in 
his  work  that  gives  it  its  altogether  unique  place  in 
the  history  of  social  satire.  Never  before  was  there 
such  a lenient  barb  on  such  a well-aimed  arrow. 

But  if  his  business  is  not  with  the  causes 
which  contributed  to  the  character  of  English 
Society  in  his  time,  it  is  with  their  effects.  No 
satirist  has  ever  put  more  highly  representative 
figures  on  to  his  stage.  They  are  so  highly  re- 
presentative because  they  conform  so  strictly  to  type. 
He  puts  a valuation  upon  everyone  whom  he  intro- 
duces on  his  stage.  He  shows  exactly  the  regard 
in  which  we  are  to  hold  them  and  their  profession. 
And  it  is  interesting,  in  the  light  of  the  favour 
with  which  he  always  treated  the  typical  savant , 
to  hear  from  his  son  that  he  was  always  as  much 
interested  in  what  was  being  accomplished  in  science 
as  in  anything  else  in  the  world.  We  must  con- 
clude scientists  were  first  in  his  estimation  as  men, 
from  the  pains  he  was  at  to  give  them  the  appear- 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  7 

ance  of  distinction  in  his  pictures.  Then  he  had 
much  regard  for  Generals,  great  Admirals,  and  other 
magnificent  specimens,  the  Adonis,  for  instance,  that 
figures  almost  as  often,  and  nearly  always  in  com- 
pany with,  his  charming  woman.  This  gentleman 
is  difficult  to  describe.  He  seems  too  languid 
even  for  the  profession  of  man-about-town,  but 
his  clothes  are  such  that  one  would  think  their 
irreproachability  could  only  be  maintained  by  a 
life  of  dedication  to  them.  Did  he  ever  exist  ? 
Du  Maurier  is  very  subtle  here.  He  fully  appreci- 
ated the  great  aim  of  the  public-school-trained  man 
in  his  own  time — the  elaborate  care  with  which 
an  officer  studied  to  conceal  an  enthusiasm  for  the 
profession  of  arms,  the  great  air  of  indolence  with 
which  over-work  was  concealed  in  the  other  fashion- 
able professions.  As  a matter  of  fact  these  beautiful 
priests  in  the  temple  of  “ good  form  ” were  splendid 
stoics.  They  would  lay  it  down  that  as  long 
as  correctness  of  attitude  was  maintained  nothing 
mattered. 

The  artist  seems  to  share  many  of  the  prejudices 
of  the  older  aristocrats.  He  makes  his  Jews  too 
Jewish.  He  believes  that  they  produce  great  artists, 
and  as  if  this  wasn’t  enough,  he  still  holds  them 


8 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


at  arm’s  length.  We  have  in  his  art  not  only  the 
record  of  social  innovations,  but  a picture  of  the 
aristocrats  before  the  barbarian  invasion.  As  a 
picture  of  them  then  his  art  has  now  its  value. 
And  yet  he  was  not  quite  an  aristocrat  in  tempera- 
ment, which  is  a little  different  from  being  one 
by  birth.  He  would  have  been  less  tolerant  of  the 
Philistines  if  he  had  been,  and  more  Bohemian  too. 
He  made  his  great  excursions  into  Bohemia,  but  he 
reached  it  always  by  a journey  through  the  suburbs. 
His  love  of  glamour  and  enchantment  was  aristo- 
cratic, but  he  did  not  keep  it  to  the  end.  He  loses 
it  in  later  drawings.  His  satire,  too,  grows  less 
pointed  after  the  eighties,  with  an  equivalent  decline 
in  the  art  by  which  it  is  conveyed.  The  poetic 
vein  that  once  distinguished  him  from  the  Society 
he  depicted  tended  also  to  disappear,  as  he  suc- 
cumbed to  a process  of  absorption  into  a Society 
which  he  had  once  been  able  to  observe  with  the 
freshness  of  a stranger.  It  is  familiarity  that  blunts 
our  sense  of  beauty.  It  is  in  its  last  phase  in  Punch 
that  his  drawing  loses  the  poetry  that  characterised 
it  in  the  seventies  and  eighties,  and  which  gave  his 
satire  then  such  a potent  stealthy  influence  over 
those  for  whom  it  was  intended. 


Illustration  for  “ Recollections  of  an  English 
Gold-Mine  ” 


Once  a Week, 

1 86 1 . 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


the  barbarian 

' 

which  is  a little  diflfei 

: it  always  by  a journey  ti 

iHbtoSHrta&fl'**  not  noiimt^uUl 

J 

it  in  late/  drawini  / lis  satiite,  oo,  glows  less 

- 

vein  that  once  distinguished  him  from  the  Society 
he  depicted  tended  also 


that  his  drawing  loses  the  poetry  t«H 

•at.  then  such  a potent  re  J 
those  for  whom  it  was  intern'*.. 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  9 


§2 

If  it  were  possible  to  imagine  a world  without 
any  women  or  children  in  it,  du  Maurier’s  con- 
temporary, Keene,  so  far  as  we  can  judge  from  his 
art,  would  have  got  along  very  well  in  such  a world. 
He  would  have  missed  the  voluminous  skirt  that 
followed  the  crinoline,  with  its  glorious  opportunity 
for  beautiful  spacing  of  white  in  a drawing,  more 
than  he  would  have  missed  its  wearer.  But  du 
Maurier’s  art  is  Romantic  ; in  the  background  of  its 
chivalric  regard  for  women  there  is  the  history  of 
the  worship  of  the  Virgin.  The  source  of  such  an 
art  would  have  to  be  sought  for  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Camelot.  It  is  impossible  to  overlook  the 
chivalry  that  will  not  allow  him,  except  with  pain, 
to  make  a woman  ugly.  He  was  first  of  all  a Poet, 
and  though  it  may  be  a man’s  business  to  put  a 
poem  on  to  paper,  it  is  a woman’s  to  create  it.  He 
was  a poet  put  into  the  business  of  satire  with 
sufficient  wit  to  sustain  himself  there.  Many  a 
time  he  has  to  make  the  satire  rest  almost  entirely 
with  the  legend  at  the  foot  of  his  drawing  ; by 
obscuring  their  legends  we  find  that  drawing  after 


io  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

drawing  has  nothing  to  tell  us  but  of  the  beauty  of 
those  involved  in  “ the  joke,”  and  this,  as  we  shall 
show  further  on,  gives  a peculiar  salt,  or  rather 
sweetness,  to  satire  from  his  pencil.  He  is  a 
romancer.  His  dialogues  are  romances.  It  is  the 
novelist  and  artist  running  side  by  side  in  the 
legend  and  the  drawing,  but  almost  independently 
of  each  other,  the  wit  and  the  poet  in  him  trying 
to  play  each  other’s  game,  that  provides  the  con- 
tradictoriness— the  charm  in  his  pictures.  The 
point  of  the  “joke”  seems  very  often  a mere  excuse 
for  working  off  several  incidents  of  beauty  that  have 
been  perceived. 

In  dealing  with  fashion  du  Maurier  scores  with 
posterity.  Beauty,  when  it  really  is  recorded,  is  the 
one  element  in  any  transitory  fashion  that  survives 
the  challenge  of  time.  It  is  natural  for  one  genera- 
tion to  hate  more  than  anything  else  in  the  world 
the  fashions  immediately  preceding  the  one  affected. 
Pointed  contemporary  satire  has,  from  the  very  shape 
it  must  assume,  an  ephemeral  success.  It  is  only 
when  something  more  than  the  mere  object  of  the 
satire  is  involved  by  some  grace  of  the  satirist’s 
genius — some  response  on  his  part  to  charm  in  the 
thing  assailed,  that  the  work  of  satire  comes  down 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  n 

from  its  own  time  with  an  indestructible  ingredient 
in  it. 

As  a record  of  feminine  fashion  du  Maurier’s 
drawings  in  Punch  are  remarkable.  It  must  not 
be  imagined  that  the  history  of  fashion  is  merely 
the  tale  of  dressmakers’  caprice.  The  very  language 
of  changing  ideals  is  the  variation  of  the  toilet. 
When  women  were  restricted  to  an  oriental  extent 
within  convention,  when  to  be  “ prim  ” was  the 
aim  of  life,  no  feature  of  dress  was  lacking  that 
could  put  “ abandonment  ” of  any  but  a moral  kind, 
out  of  the  question.  A shake  of  the  head  too 
quickly  and  the  coiffure  was  imperilled  ; the  move- 
ments that  came  within  the  prescribed  circle  of 
dignity  within  the  circle  of  the  crinoline  were  all 
of  a rhythmical  order.  Women  did  not  take  to 
moving  with  freedom  because  the  crinoline  went 
out,  but  the  crinoline  went  out  when  they  took 
to  moving  with  freedom.  It  went  out  simply 
because  it  was  a confounded  nuisance.  It  was  a 
natural  costume  only  as  long  as  women  imagined 
it  was  natural  to  them  to  be  very  still  in  demeanour. 
Once  they  began  to  have  opinions  about  that  matter 
they  soon  sent  the  crinoline  on  its  way.  The  same 
process  goes  on  with  the  fashions  of  wearing  the  hair. 


12 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


The  Blue-stocking,  constantly  running  her  nervous 
fingers  up  her  forehead  into  her  hair,  has  given 
to  Girton  a style  of  its  own,  equivalent  to  none 
at  all.  Fashion  is  more  sensible  than  most  things. 
If  it  changes  with  a rapidity  that  dazzles  man,  is 
not  that  only  because  man  is  stupid  ? 

To  study  hair-dressing  in  du  Maurier’s  pictures, 
is  to  study  the  growth  of  the  nineteenth-century 
woman’s  mind.  The  head-dress  becomes  more  natural 
as  woman  herself  becomes  more  natural.  It  becomes 
more  Greek  when  she  takes  up  the  Amazon  idea, 
and  simple  when  she  discards  some  of  the  com- 
plications of  convention,  always  to  return  to  elabora- 
tion in  the  winter  when  it  is  not  easy  to  live  the 
simple  life  after  the  bell  goes  for  dinner. 

When  the  crinoline  went  out  the  train  came 
in  ; so  that  though  woman  had  allowed  herself  more 
freedom,  man  could  only  walk  behind  her  at  a 
respectful  distance  with  a ceremonial  measure  of 
pace.  The  dressmaker  did  not  control  all  this  ; the 
resources  of  her  transcendent  art  were  strained  to 
keep  up  with  the  march  of  womanhood — that  was 
all.  If  we  may  believe  du  Maurier’s  art,  the  note 
of  beauty  never  entirely  disappeared  from  fashion 
until  the  aesthetic  women  of  the  eighties  seemed 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  13 

to  take  in  hand  their  own  clothes.  The  aesthetic 
ladies  failed,  as  the  movement  to  which  they  attached 
themselves  did,  for  beauty  is  something  attendant 
upon  life,  arriving  when  it  likes,  going  away  very 
often  when  everyone  is  on  his  knees  for  it  to 
remain. 


H 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


§3 

When  it  comes  to  his  drawings  of  children  du 
Maurier  is  very  far  away  from  the  sentimentalist  of 
the  Barrie  school.  He  does  not  attempt  to  go 
through  the  artifice  of  pretended  possession  of  the 
realm  of  the  child’s  mind.  He  was  of  those  who 
find  the  curious  attractiveness  of  childhood  in  the 
unreality,  and  not,  as  claimed  by  the  later  school, 
the  superior  reality  of  the  child’s  world.  His  view 
of  the  child  is  the  affectionate,  but  the  “ Olympian  ” 
one,  with  its  amused  appreciation  of  the  naivete 
and  the  charm  of  childhood’s  particular  brand  of 
self-possession.  It  is  possible  that  his  nursery  scenes 
played  some  part  in  promoting  the  respect  that  is 
given  to-day  to  the  impulses  of  childhood,  the 
enlightened  and  beautiful  side  of  which  respect  after 
all  so  far  outweighs  the  ridiculous  and  sentimental 
one.  His  nursery  drawings  contribute  much  of  the 
fragrance  associated  with  his  work  in  Punch . He 
takes  rank  under  the  best  definition  of  an  artist, 
namely,  one  who  can  put  his  own  values  upon  the 
things  that  come  up  for  representation  on  his  paper. 
By  his  insistence  upon  certain  pleasant  things  he 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  15 

helped  to  establish  them  in  the  ideal,  which,  on  the 
morrow,  always  tends  to  become  the  real.  He  was 
a realist  only  to  the  extent  of  their  possibility.  It 
gave  him  no  pleasure  whatever  to  enumerate,  and 
represent  over  again,  the  many  times  in  which  the 
beautiful  intentions  of  nature  had  gone  astray.  He 

liked  to  be  upon  the  side  of  her  successes.  He 

constantly  helped  us  to  believe  in,  and  to  will 
towards  the  existence  of  such  a world  here  on  earth, 
as  we  have  set  our  heart  upon.  He  is  not  an  idealist 
in  the  vague  sense,  for  he  imports  no  beauty  merely 
from  dreamland.  Like  the  Greeks,  he  makes  the 
possible  his  single  ideal.  In  insisting  upon  the  possi- 
bility of  beauty  and  suppressing  every  reference  to 
the  monstrous  story  of  failure  which  the  existence 
of  hideousness  implies,  once  more  he  puts  the  world 
in  debt  to  art  after  the  fashion  of  the  old  masters. 
For  after  all  it  seems  to  have  been  left  for  modern 
artists  to  grow  wealthy  and  live  comfortably  upon 
the  proceeds  of  their  own  relation  of  the  world’s 
despair  ; if  they  are  playwrights,  to  live  most  snugly 
upon  the  box-receipts  of  an  entrapped  audience 
unnerved  for  the  struggle  of  life  by  their  ghastly 
picture  of  life’s  gloom. 

However  splendid  the  art  in  such  a case  we  put 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


16 

it  well  down  below  that  art  which  exerts  the  same 
amount  of  effort  in  trying  to  sustain  the  will  to 
believe  in,  and  so  to  bring  about  the  reign  of  things 
we  really  want. 

Du  Maurier’s  art  was  nearer  to  reality,  and  not 
farther  away,  in  the  charming  side  of  it.  Realism 
does  not  necessarily  imply  only  the  representation  of 
the  mean  and  the  defaulting.  It  is  perhaps  because 
humanity  so  passionately  desires  the  reign  of  beauty 
that  it  is  inclined  to  doubt  that  art  which  witnesses 
to  the  dream  of  it  as  already  partly  true. 

Although  du  Maurier’s  art  in  its  tenderness  is 
romantic,  in  its  belief  in  the  ideal  and  in  its  insist- 
ence upon  type  rather  than  individuality  it  is 
Classic.  In  the  fact  that  it  is  so  it  fails  in  intimacy 
of  mood — -just  the  intimacy  that  is  the  soul  of 
Keene’s  art,  which  descends  from  Rembrandt’s. 
But  this  point  will  come  up  for  consideration  farther 
on.  Here  it  only  concerns  us  in  its  connection  with 
the  psychology  of  the  people  it  interprets  in  satire. 
There  is  the  psychology  of  individuals  and  the 
psychology  of  a whole  society — the  latter  was  du 
Maurier’s  theme.  It  is  generally  an  obsession,  a 
“ fad,”  a “ craze,”  or  “ fashion  ” that  his  pencil 
exploits.  He  does  not  with  Keene  laugh  with  an 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  17 

individual  at  another  individual.  His  art  is  well- 
bred  in  its  style  partly  through  the  fact  of  its 
limitations.  Moreover,  in  “ Society  ” individuality 
tends  to  be  less  evident  than  amongst  the  poorer 
classes,  with  whom  eccentricity  is  respected.  In 
“ Society  ” the  force  of  individuality  now  runs 
beneath  the  surface  of  observable  varieties  of 
costume,  taking  a subterranean  course  with  an 
impulse  to  avoid  everything  that  would  give  rise  to 
comment.  But  the  conformity  of  “ Society  ” in 
small  things  is  only  a mask.  Du  Maurier’s  real 
weakness  in  satire  was  that  he  did  not  quite  perceive 
this.  He  was  inclined  to  accept  appearances  for 
realities,  with  the  consequence  that  the  record  he 
transmits  of  late  Victorian  Society  obscures  the  quite 
feverish  genius  of  that  age. 


§4 

It  has  often  been  remarked  that  the  comparative 
failure  of  du  Maurier’s  successors  seems  the  result 
of  a difficulty  in  drawing  “ a lady  ” unmistakably. 
We  can  forgive  much  to  the  artist  who  brought 
the  English  lady,  by  many  accounted  the  finest  in 
the  world,  into  real  existence  in  modern  comic  art. 

B 


1 8 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


We  shall  have  to  forgive  him  for  turning  into  a 
lady  every  woman  who  was  not  middle-aged.  Du 
Maurier’s  picture  of  Society  was  largely  falsified  by 
his  inability  to  appreciate  variety  in  feminine  genius. 
But  we  are  quite  prepared  to  believe  that  his  treat- 
ment of  the  dainty  parlour-maid,  for  instance,  helped 
to  confirm  that  tradition  of  refinement  in  table 
service  which  is  the  pleasant  feature  of  English 
home  life.  All  the  servants  shown  in  his  pictures 
are  ladies,  and  this  before  the  fashion  had  made 
any  headway  of  engaging  ladies  as  servants.  And 
we  cannot  help  feeling  such  delightful  child-life  as  he 
represents  could  only  have  retained  its  characteristics 
under  the  wing  of  the  beautiful  women  who  nurse 
it  in  his  pictures. 

Both  du  Maurier  and  Keene  knew  the  genus 
artist  in  all  its  varieties  ; and  it  is  very  interesting 
to  contrast,  and  note  the  difference  between,  the 
“ Artist  ” whom  du  Maurier  brings  into  his  society 
scenes  and  the  one  of  Keene’s  drawings.  In  Keene’s 
case  the  “ artist  ” is  generally  a slouching  Bohemian 
creature  who  belongs  to  a world  of  his  own,  and 
bears  the  stamp  of  “ stranger  ” upon  him  in  any 
other.  But  the  “ artist  ” of  du  Maurier,  putting 
aside  the  aesthete  coterie,  with  whom  we  shall  deal 


“The  Cilician  Pirates” 

The  Cor  nh  illy 
April  1863. 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


We  shall  have  to  forgive  him  for  turning  into  a 
ry  woman  who  was  not  middle-aged.  Du 
s picture  of  Society  wa-  largely  alsified  by 

. 

£ 

home  life.  All  the  servants  !' 
ladies,  and  'tkmndi  ruujiliD 

any  headway  of  cnga^g^adies^  • • 

. 

under  the  wing  of  me  beautiful  women  who  nurse 


Both  du  Maur.  and  Keene  knew  the  genus 

< 

■ 


rvvAift.jq 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  19 

presently,  wears  upon  him  every  outward  symbol  of 
peace  with  the  world — The  world,  Mayfair.  He 
is  always  an  “ R.  A.” — symbol  of  respectability — 
whether  du  Maurier  mentions  it  or  not.  With 
this  type  Art  is  one  of  the  great  recognised  profes- 
sions like  The  Army  or  The  Bar.  We  have  no 
curiosity  as  to  what  sort  of  pictures  they  paint. 
We  know  that  their  art  was  suitable  for  the 
Academy,  therefore  for  the  Victorian  Drawing-room. 
We  are  merely  amused  at  the  solemnity  of  manner 
with  which  they  assumed  that  their  large-sized 
Christmas  cards  had  anything  to  do  with  art  at  all — 
cards  which  lost  the  purchasers  of  them  such  enormous 
sums  when  sold  again  at  Christie’s  that  the  shaken 
confidence  of  the  public  as  to  the  worth  of  modern 
pictures  has  not  recovered  to  this  day. 

All  through  this  state  of  things,  too,  the  really 
vital  work  of  the  time  was  left  to  the  encouragement 
of  those  whom  “ Society  ” would  then  have  called 
“outsiders,”  and  it  was  just  this  failure  on  the  part 
of  the  aristocracy  to  enlist  the  genius  of  the  period 
on  its  own  side  that  betrayed  its  decrepitude. 


20 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


§ 5 

The  enduring  feature  of  du  Maurier’s  art,  that 
which  survives  in  it  better  than  its  sometimes  scath- 
ing commentary  upon  a passing  “ craze,”  is  his  close 
representation  of  the  air  with  which  people  seek  to 
foil  each  other  in  conversation  and  conceal  their 
own  trepidations.  His  “ Social  Agonies”  are  among 
the  best  of  this  series.  If  he  does  not  lay  stress  upon 
individual  character,  he  still  remains  the  master 
draughtsman  of  a state  of  mind.  He  succeeds  thus 
in  the  very  field  where  probably  all  that  is  most 
important  in  modern  art,  whether  of  the  novel  or 
of  illustration,  will  be  found. 

Behind  the  economy  of  word  and  gesture  in 
the  conversational  method  of  to-day  there  lies  the 
history  of  the  long  struggle  of  the  race  through 
volubility  to  refinement  of  expression.  Du  Maurier’s 
Punch  pictures  take  their  place  in  the  field  of 
psychology  in  which  the  modern  novel  has  secured 
its  greatest  results,  and  the  best  appreciation  of  his 
Punch  work  was  written  in  the  eighties  by  Mr. 
Henry  James,  the  supreme  master  in  this  field  ; the 
master  of  suspenses  that  are  greater  than  the  con- 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  21 


versations  in  which  they  happen  ; the  explorer  of 
twilights  of  consciousness  in  which  little  passions 
contend. 

The  Society  du  Maurier  depicted  held  its  position 
upon  more  comfortable  terms  than  any  preceding  it 
in  history.  It  did  not  have,  on  the  one  hand,  to 
trim  to  a court  party,  or,  on  the  other,  to  concede 
anything  to  the  people  to  keep  itself  in  power. 
Yet  it  was  as  swollen  with  pride  in  its  position  as 
any  society  has  ever  been.  The  industrial  pheno- 
mena of  the  age  had  suddenly  filled  its  pockets  ; 
and  it  had  nothing  else  in  the  world  to  do  but  to 
blow  itself  out  with  pride.  But  a Society  holding 
its  position  without  an  effort  of  some  kind  of  its 
own  is  bound  to  lose  in  character,  and  the  confession 
of  all  the  best  literature  of  this  time  was  of  the 
baffled  search  for  the  soul  of  the  prosperous  class. 

§6 

For  the  appreciation  of  the  artist’s  management 
of  dialogue  we  must  move  for  a page  or  two  in  Mrs. 
de  Tomkyns’  circle  with  Miss  Lyon  Hunter,  Sir 
Gorgius  Midas  the  Plutocrat,  Sir  Pompey  Bedel  (of 
Bedel,  Flunke  & Co.)  the  successful  professional 


22 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


man,  and  the  rest  of  the  whole  set,  who  understand 
each  other  in  the  freemasonry  of  a common  ambition 
to  get  into  another  set. 

Mamma . “ Enfin,  my  love  ! We’re  well  out  of  this  ! 
What  a gang  ! ! ! Where  shall  we  go  next  ? ” 

Daughter . “To  Lady  Oscar  Talbot’s,  Mamma.” 
Mamma . “She  snubs  one  so  I really  can’t  bear  it ! Let 
us  go  to  Mrs.  Ponsonby  de  Tomkyns.  It’s  just  as  select 
(except  the  Host  and  Hostess)  and  quite  as  amusing.” 

Daughter . “ But  Mrs.  Tomkyns  snubs  one  worse  than 
Lady  Oscar,  Mamma  ! ” 

Mamma.  “ Pooh,  my  love  ! who  cares  for  the  snubs  of 
a Mrs.  Ponsonby  de  Tomkyns  I should  like  to  know,  so 
long  as  she’s  clever  enough  to  get  the  right  people.” 

Th  is  is  the  conversation  in  the  hall  between  two 
ladies  leaving  a party  in  one  of  du  Maurier’s  most 
characteristic  drawings.  On  every  side  there  are  foot- 
men and  a crowd  of  guests  cloaking  and  departing. 
Of  Mrs.  Ponsonby  de  Tomkyns  Mr.  Henry  James 
has  said  : “ This  lady  is  a real  creation.  . . . She 
is  not  one  of  the  heroines  of  the  aesthetic  movement, 
though  we  may  be  sure  she  dabbles  in  that  move- 
ment so  far  as  it  pays  to  do  so.  Mrs.  Ponsonby 
de  Tomkyns  is  a little  of  everything,  in  so  far  as 
anything  pays.  She  is  always  on  the  look-out  ; she 
never  misses  an  opportunity.  She  is  not  a specialist. 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  23 

for  that  cuts  off  too  many  opportunities,  and  the 
aesthetic  people  have  the  tort  as  the  French  say,  to 
be  specialists.  No,  Mrs.  Ponsonby  de  Tomkyns  is 
— what  shall  we  call  her  ? — well,  she  is  the  modern 
social  spirit.  She  is  prepared  for  everything  ; she  is 
ready  to  take  advantage  of  everything  ; she  would 
invite  Mr.  Bradlaugh  to  dinner  if  she  thought  the 
Duchess  would  come  to  meet  him.  The  Duchess  is 
her  great  achievement — she  never  lets  go  of  her 
Duchess.  She  is  young,  very  nice-looking,  slim, 
graceful,  indefatigable.  She  tires  poor  Ponsonby 
completely  out  ; she  can  keep  going  for  hours  after 
poor  Ponsonby  is  reduced  to  stupefaction.  This 
unfortunate  husband  is  indeed  almost  stupefied.  He 
is  not,  like  his  wife,  a person  of  imagination.  She 
leaves  him  far  behind,  though  he  is  so  inconvertible 
that  if  she  were  a less  superior  person  he  would  have 
been  a sad  encumbrance.  He  always  figures  in  the 
corner  of  the  scenes  in  which  she  distinguishes 
herself,  separated  from  her  by  something  like  the 
gulf  that  separated  Caliban  from  Ariel.  He  has  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  his  head  poked  forward  ; what 
is  going  on  is  quite  beyond  his  comprehension.  He 
vaguely  wonders  what  his  wife  will  do  next  ; her 
manoeuvres  quite  transcend  him.  Mrs.  Ponsonby  de 


24 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


Tomkyns  always  succeeds.  She  is  never  at  fault  ; 
she  is  as  quick  as  the  instinct  of  self-preservation. 
She  is  the  little  London  lady  who  is  determined  to 
be  a greater  one — she  pushes,  gently  but  firmly — 
always  pushes.  At  last  she  arrives.” 

We  have  quoted  this  delightful  picture  almost  in 
its  entirety  from  the  essay  upon  du  Maurier  written 
by  Mr.  Henry  James  in  the  eighties  to  which  we 
have  referred.  It  describes  the  type  of  woman  re- 
vealed in  Mrs.  de  Tomkyns  when  we  have  followed 
her  adventures  up  a little  way  in  the  back  numbers 
of  Punch . But,  if  we  may  be  permitted  the  slang, 
the  type  itself  is  anything  but  “ a back  number.” 
Du  Maurier’s  work  bids  fair  to  live  in  the  enjoyment 
of  many  generations,  from  the  fact  that  its  chaff,  for 
the  most  part,  is  directed  against  vanities  that  recur 
in  human  nature.  Mr.  James  tells  us  that  the  lady 
of  whom  we  write  “ hesitates  at  nothing  ; she  is 
very  modern.  If  she  doesn’t  take  the  aesthetic  line 
more  than  is  necessary,  she  finds  it  necessary  to  take 
it  a little  ; for  if  we  are  to  believe  du  Maurier,  the 
passion  for  strange  raiment  and  blue  china  has  during 
the  last  few  years  made  ravages  in  the  London 
world.”  Mr.  Henry  James  himself  is  one  of  the 
experts  of  the  London  world.  There  is  almost  a 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  25 

hint  in  the  last  sentence  that  he  thought  du 
Maurier’s  genius  helped  to  nurse  the  crazes  it  made 
fun  of. 

Since  writing  this  I have  been  told  by  one  to 
whom  du  Maurier  related  the  incident,  that  the 
hero  of  the  aesthetic  movement  himself,  Oscar  Wilde, 
offered  to  sit  to  du  Maurier  for  the  chief  character 
in  his  skit.  Wilde  was  very  young,  but  already 
master  of  that  art  of  self-advertisement  which  he 
received  from  Byron  and  Disraeli,  perfected,  and,  I 
think,  handed  on  to  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw.  But  such 
anxiety  for  every  kind  of  celebrity  at  any  cost  seems 
to  have  lost  the  youthful  genius  the  esteem  of  the 
great  Punch  artist  once  and  for  all.  The  represen- 
tative of  humorous  journalism  seems  the  one  upon 
whom  the  delicate  humour  of  the  proposal  was  lost. 

As  far  as  du  Maurier  was  capable  of  vindictive- 
ness it  was  reserved  for  Maudle  and  Postlethwaite. 
He  went  out  of  his  way  to  give  a contemptible 
appearance  to  those  who  took  the  name  of  Art  in 
vain.  His  only  spiteful  drawings  are  those  of 
aesthetes.  They  are  spiteful  to  the  extent  of  the 
great  disgust  which  he,  the  most  amiable  of  satirists, 
felt  for  them.  But  still  he  was  careful  not  to  treat 
a craze  which  afforded  him  inexhaustible  variations 


26 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


of  subject  matter  with  so  much  bitterness  as  to  kill 
it  right  out.  It  was  only  towards  this  craze  that  he 
showed  any  bitterness  at  all,  for  the  rest  he  is  always 
amused  with  Society.  He  has  none  of  the  bitter 
Jeremiahlike  anger  against  it  of  a Swift. 

Mr.  Henry  James  defending  du  Maurier  from 
a charge  of  being  malignant,  brought  against  him 
for  his  ugly  representation  of  queer  people,  failures, 
and  grotesques,  refused  to  allow  that  the  taint  of 
“French  ferocity  ” of  which  the  artist  was  accused, 
existed.  But  Mr.  Henry  James  sees  in  du  Maurier’s 
ugly  people  a real  specification  of  type,  where  we 
confess  that  we  have  felt  that  his  “ ferocity  ” missed 
the  point  of  resemblance  to  type  through  clumsy 
exaggeration.  One  noticeable  instance,  however,  to 
our  mind,  where  the  too  frequent  outrageousness  is 
replaced  by  an  exquisite  study  of  character,  is  in 
the  face  of  the  fair  authoress  who,  when  the 
gallant  Colonel,  anxious  to  break  the  ice,  and  full 
of  the  fact  that  he  has  just  been  made  a proud 
father,  asks  if  she  takes  any  interest  in  very  young 
children,  replies,  “I  loathe  <?// children  ! ” (January  13, 
1880). 


Illustration  for  “Wives  and  Daughters” 

The  Corn hilly 
1864. 


26 


DU  MAT 


of  subject  matter  with  so  much  bitterness  as  to  kill 
it  right  out.  It  was  only  towards  this  craze  that  he 
showed  any  bitterness  at  all,  for  th  n t he  is  always 
amused  with  Society.  He  has  n the  bitter 

Jeremiahlike  anger  against  it  of  a Sv. 

Mr.  Henry  James  defem  rom 

a charge  of  being  malignant,  ' him 

v-V  bns  aaviV/  13  ;iol  rtoitsuanill 

‘ French  ferocity 

existed.  But  Mr.  Henry  JanjiggjSees  in  du  Manner 
ugly  people  a real  specification  of  type  where  we 
confess  that  we  1 :hat  his  “ ferocity  missed 

the  point  of  rese  .dance  to  type  through  clumsy 
exaggeration.  One  noticeable  instance,  however,  to 
our  mind,  where  the  too  frequent  outrageousness  is 
replaced  by  an  exquisite  study  of  character,  is  in 
the  face  of  the  fair  authoress  who,  wh  i the 
n - 

of  the  ^act  that  he  has  ;ust  been  t ;?  it  orond 
father.,  asks  if  she  takes  any  inter  ur.g 

children,  replies,  “ I loathe  #// chil  i f 





THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  27 


§ 7 

The  story  of  children’s  conversation  has  per- 
haps never  been  told  quite  so  charmingly  as 
du  Maurier  tells  it.  We  could  quote  endlessly 

from  the  admirably  constructed  nursery  dialogues 
in  which  he  does  not  attempt  to  make  a joke, 
and  in  which  he  very  carefully  refrains  from 
giving  a fantastic  precocity  to  his  little  characters — 
dialogues  in  which  he  is  quite  content  to  rely  upon 
our  sympathetic  knowledge  of  children’s  way  of 
putting  things,  while  he  rests  the  appeal  of  the 
drawing  and  legend  entirely  upon  a naive  literalness 
to  their  remarks.  The  charming  atmosphere  of 
the  well-ordered  nursery  must  be  felt  by  readers, 
and  then  we  can  quote  from  the  text  of  some 
of  his  drawings  of  the  kind  ; this  we  shall 
do  somewhat  at  random  and  as  they  come  to 
mind. 

“ Are  you  asleep,  dearest  ? Yes,  Mamma,  and  the 
Doctor  particularly  said  that  I wasn’t  to  be  waked  to  take 
my  medicine”  ( July  10,  1880). 

“ Oh,  Auntie  ! There’s  your  tiresome  cook’s  been  and 
filled  my  egg  too  full  ” ( April  22,  1882). 


28 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


Already  we  are  seized  with  misgivings  as  to 
whether,  with  the  reader  very  much  on  the  look- 
out for  the  jokes,  we  shall  be  successful  in  making 
our  point  in  claiming  for  du  Maurier  that,  as  much 
as  any  author  who  has  ever  written  upon  children, 
he  captures  “ the  note  ” of  children’s  speeches.  But 
anyhow  we  will  try. 

For  an  instance  there  is  the  delightful  picture 
of  a child  clasping  its  mother  round  the  knees, 
whilst  the  mother,  shawled  for  an  evening  concert, 
bends  affectionately  down — 

“ Good  Night ! Good  Night ! my  dear,  sweet,  pretty 
mamma  ! I like  you  to  go  out,  because  if  you  didn’t  you’d 
never  come  home  again,  you  know.” 

The  artist  perhaps  invented  this  pretty  speech,  but 
the  “ Good  Night  ! Good  Night  ! my  dear,  sweet, 
pretty  mamma  ” is  of  the  very  spirit  of  the  redun- 
dancy by  which  children  hope  in  heaping  words 
together  to  express  accumulation  of  emotion.  Du 
Maurier’s  children  never  make  the  nasty  pert 
answers  upon  which,  for  their  nearly  impossible 
but  always  vulgar  smartness,  the  providers  of  jokes 
about  children  for  the  comic  papers  generally  de- 
pend. He  is  simply  going  on  with  his  “ novel  ” 
— The  Tale  of  the  House  it  might  be  called — 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  29 

when  he  affords  us  realistic  glimpses  of  nursery 
conversation. 

Mamma . “ What  is  Baby  crying  for,  Maggie  ? ” 

Maggie.  “ I don’t  know.” 

Mamma.  “ And  what  are  you  looking  so  indignant 
about  ? ” 

Maggie.  “ That  nasty,  greedy  dog’s  been  and  took  and 
eaten  my  punge-take  ! ” 

Mamma.  “ Why,  I saw  you  eating  a sponge-cake  a 
minute  ago  ! ” 

Maggie.  “ O — that  was  Baby’s.” 

We  need  hardly  labour  the  point  of  the  “been 
and  took  and  eaten  ” as  an  instance  of  felicity  in 
reconstructing  children’s  conversation,  and  making 
the  verisimilitude  to  their  grammar  the  charm  of 
the  reconstruction. 

Ethel.  “ Isn’t  it  sad,  Arthur  ? There’s  the  drawing- 
room cleared  for  a dance,  and  all  the  dolls  ready  to  begin, 
only  they’ve  got  no  partners  ! ” 

Arthur.  “Well,  Ethel  ! There’s  the  four  gentlemen  in 
my  Noah’s  Ark ; but  they  don’t  look  as  if  they  cared  very 
much  about  dancings  you  know  ! ” ( February  24,  1872). 

Ethel.  “ And  O,  Mamma,  do  you  know  as  we  were 
coming  along  we  saw  a horrid  woman  with  a red  striped 
shawl  drink  something  out  of  a bottle,  and  then  hand  it 
to  some  men.  I’m  sure  she  was  tipsy.” 


3° 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


Beatrice  (who  always  looks  on  the  best  side  of  things). 
“ Perhaps  it  was  only  Castor  Oil,  after  all ! ” 

A whispered  appeal.  “ Mamma  ! Mamma  ! don’t  scold 
him  any  more,  it  makes  the  room  so  dark.” 

It  is  the  poetry  of  the  nursery  that  is  to  be  felt 
throughout  du  Maurier’s  art  in  this  vein.  And 
how  well  he  knows  the  emotions  of  childhood. 
For  instance,  the  large  drawing  “Farewell  to  Fair 
Normandy”  (October  2,  1880),  extending  across 
two  full  pages  of  Punchy  in  which  the  children 
away  for  their  seaside  holiday  leave  the  sands  for 
the  last  time  in  a mournful  procession.  The  sky 
is  dimmed  with  an  evening  cloud.  Du  Maurier 
has  compressed  much  poetry  into  the  scene.  It 
has  been  said  that  “ there  is  only  one  art,”  and  this 
seems  to  be  proved  on  great  occasions  by  those 
who  can  command  more  than  one  art  for  the  ex- 
pression of  their  feelings.  It  is  difficult  to  say 
where  in  this  picture  the  artist  in  du  Maurier  gives 
place  to  the  poet,  as  difficult  as  it  is  to  say  before 
a picture  of  Rossetti. 

Sometimes  du  Maurier  even  depicted  delightful 
children  as  the  victims  of  the  fashionable  crazes 
that  he  loved  to  attack,  and  thus  we  are  brought 


Illustration  for  “ Wives  and  Daughters” 


The  Cornhilly 
1865. 


3<> 


Beatrice  (who  always  looks  an  the  best  side  of  things) 

. 

■ 

It  makes  the  r< 


the  poetry  of  the  nt  , n be  fc]t 

how  well  he  knows  the  emo; 

" v-i3yrf|bfi(f  bti*  soviW  41  idt  noiifiiiaulll 

.wo  fall  pages  of  which  , 

nirnfnl  procession.  The  sky 
is  dimmed  with  ar  evening  cloud.  Du  Maurier 
nas  compressed  much  poetry  into  the  scene. 

said  that  “ there  is  only  one  art,”  and  this 
seems  to  be  proved  on  great  occasions  by  those 
who  can  commandf  more  than  one  art  for  hr  tx~ 

where  in  this  picture  the  artist  in  du  M.  ,vc* 

' 

Sometimes  du  Maurier  even  d rt'uj 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  31 

to  another  series  of  dialogues — as  a rule  though 
only  involving  the  “ grown-ups  ” — in  which  the 
legend  and  the  type  of  person  depicted,  together, 
form  a most  valuable  document  of  the  times.  There 
is  for  instance  the  China  mania — in  the  following 
in  the  incipient  stage  : — 

“ O Mamma  ! O ! O ! N — N — Nurse  has  given  me  my 
C — C — Cod-liver  Oil  out  of  a p — p — plain  white  mug  ” 
(December  26,  1874). 

Then  the  inimitable  colloquies  of  the  aesthetes 
— and  especially  the  now  famous  one  about  the  six- 
mark  tea-pot. 

Aesthetic  Bridegroom . “It  is  quite  consummate,  is  it 
not?” 

Intense  Bride.  “ It  is,  indeed  ! Oh,  Algernon,  let  us 
live  up  to  it ! ” 

Also  the  direction,  to  the  architect  about  the 
country  house  : 

Fair  Client.  “ I want  it  to  be  nice  and  baronial,  Queen 
Anne  and  Elizabethan,  and  all  that;  kind  of  quaint  and 
Nuremburgy  you  know — regular  Old  English,  with  French 
windows  opening  to  the  lawn,  and  Venetian  blinds,  and 
sort  of  Swiss  balconies,  and  a loggia.  But  I’m  sure  you 
know  what  I mean  ! ” ( November  29,  1890). 


32 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


And  farther  on  in  the  Punch  volumes  : — 

“ O,  Mr.  Robinson,  does  not  it  ever  strike  you,  in 
listening  to  sweet  music,  that  the  Rudiment  of  Potential 
Infinite  Pain  is  subtly  woven  into  the  tissue  of  our  keenest 
joy”  ( December  2,  1891). 

But  perhaps  before  closing  this  chapter  we 
should  give  some  examples  of  drawing-room  con- 
versation pure  and  simple,  without  reference  to 
any  sort  of  craze,  as  specimens  of  their  author’s 
skill.  Familiarity  with  the  artist’s  characters  will 
enable  the  reader  to  appreciate  the  note  of  a shy 
man’s  agony  in  some,  and  of  feminine  spite  in 
others. 

Among  the  tc  Speeches  to  be  lived  down,  if 
possible,”  there  are  these  : 

She.  “ Let  me  introduce  you  to  a very  charming  lady, 
to  take  down  to  supper.” 

He.  “ A — thanks — no.  I never  eat  supper.” 

“ By  George  ! I am  so  hungry  I can’t  talk.” 

Fair  Hostess  (on  hospitable  thoughts  intent).  “ Oh, 
I’m  so  glad  ! ” 

“Things  one  would  rather  have  left  unsaid”  : 

Amiable  Hostess.  “What!  must  you  go  already?  Really, 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  33 

Professor,  it’s  too  bad  of  this  sweet  young  wife  of  yours  to 
carry  you  off  so  early  ! She  always  does  ! ” 

Professor . “ No,  no,  not  always , Mrs.  Bright.  At  most 
houses  I positively  have  to  drag  her  away  ! ” 

“Truths  that  might  have  been  left  unspoken”  : 

Hostess.  “ What  ? haven’t  you  brought  your  sisters,  Mr. 
Jones  ? ” 

Mr.  Jones.  “ No,  they  couldn’t  come,  Mrs.  Smith. 
The  fact  is,  they’re  saving  themselves  for  Mrs.  Brown’s 
Dance  to-morrow,  you  know!”  ( January  9,  1886). 

Under  the  heading  “ Feline  Amenities”  : 

Pair  Hostess  (to  Mrs.  Masham,  who  is  looking  her  very 
best).  “ How-dy-do,  dear  ? I hope  you’re  not  so  tired  as 
you  look  ! ” 

Sympathetic  Lady  Guest.  “ Don’t  be  unhappy  about  the 
rain,  dear  Mrs.  Bounderson — it  will  soon  be  over,  and  your 
garden  will  be  lovelier  than  ever.” 

Little  Mrs.  Goldmore  Bounderson  (who  is  giving  her  first 
Garden  Party).  “ Yes ; but  I’m  afraid  it  will  keep  my 
most  desirable  guests  from  coming  ! ” 

This  last  duologue  is  pure  du  Maurier.  It  is 
subtle. 

“ Feline  Amenities”  again  : 

“ How  kind  of  you  to  call — I’m  sorry  to  have  kept 
you  waiting  ! ” 


c 


34 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


“ Oh,  don’t  mention  it. — I’ve  not  been  at  all  bored ! 
I’ve  been  trying  to  imagine  what  I should  do  to  make  this 
room  look  comfortable  if  it  were  mine!”  ( November  22, 
1892). 

♦ 

The  “ Things  one  would  rather  have  expressed 
otherwise  ” is  a good  series  too  : 

The  Professor  (to  Hostess).  “ Thank  you  so  much  for  a 
most  delightful  evening ! I shall  indeed  go  to  bed  with 
pleasant  recollections — and  you  will  be  the  very  last  person 
I shall  think  of!  ” 

And  again,  of  the  same  series  : 

Fair  Hostess.  “Good-night,  Major  Jones.  We’re  sup- 
posed to  breakfast  at  nine,  but  we’re  not  very  punctual 
people.  Indeed  the  later  you  appear  to-morrow  morning, 
the  better  pleased  we  shall  all  be”  ( May  13,  1893). 

“ Things  one  would  rather  have  left  unsaid  ” : 

He.  “Yes,  I know  Bootle  slightly,  and  confess  I don’t 
think  much  of  him  ! ” 

She . “ I know  him  a little  too.  He  took  me  in  to 
dinner  a little  while  ago  ! ” 

He.  “ Ah,  that’s  just  about  all  he’s  fit  for  ! ” 

The  Hostess.  “ Dear  Miss  Linnet ! would  you — would 
you  sing  one  of  those  charming  ballads,  while  I go  and  see 
if  supper’s  ready  ? ” 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  35 

The  Companion.  “ O,  don’t  ask  me — I feel  nervous. 
There  are  so  many  people.” 

The  Hostess.  “ O,  they  won’t  listen,  bless  you  ! not  one 
of  them  ! Now  do  ! ! !” 

And  here  is  a conversation  that  betrays  the 
presence  of  one  of  the  currents  of  public  feeling 
below  the  smooth  surface  of  well-bred  twaddle  : 

In  the  Metropolitan  Railway.  “ I beg  your  pardon,  but  I 
think  I had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  in  Rome  last 

3 »* 

year  r 

“No,  I’ve  never  been  nearer  to  Rome  than  St. 
Alban’s.” 

“ St.  Alban’s  ? Where  is  that  ? ” 

“ Holborn.” 

Some  rather  amusing  speeches  of  a different 
character  in  which  du  Maurier  assails  the  more 
obvious  forms  of  snobbery  of  a class  below  those 
with  whom  his  art  was  generally  concerned  may 
be  given  : 

Among  the  Philistines.  Grigsby . “ Do  you  know  the 

Joneses,  Mrs.  Brown  ? ” 

“No,  we — er — don’t  care  to  know  Business  people  as  a 
rule,  although  my  husband’s  in  business ; but  then  he’s  in 
the  Coffee  Business  and  they’re  all  gentlemen  in  the  Coffee 
Business,  you  know  ! ” 


36 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


Grigsby  (who  always  suits  himself  to  his  company). 
“ Really  now  ! Why,  that’s  more  than  can  be  said  of  the 
Army,  the  Navy,  the  Church,  the  Bar,  or  even  the  House 
of  Lords  ! I don’t  wonder  at  your  being  rather  exclusive  ! ” 
(Punch's  Almanac , 1882). 

“ I see  your  servants  wear  cockades  now,  Miss 
Shoddson ! ” 

“Yes,  Pa’s  just  become  a member  of  the  Army  and 
Navy  Stores.” 

When  du  Maurier  confined  himself  to  observing 
and  to  recording  he  never  failed  for  subjects.  But 
we  suppose  as  a concession  to  a section  of  the  public 
he  felt  a leaven  of  mere  jokes  was  demanded  from 
him  every  year.  The  scene  of  his  struggle  to  invent 
those  “ jokes”  is  one  to  be  veiled.  It  is  safe  to  say 
that  it  is  his  distinction  to  have  contributed  at  once 
the  best  satire  and  the  worst  jokes  that  Hunch 
has  ever  published.  A black  and  white  artist  has 
told  the  writer  that  the  ^/-Editors  of  papers  look 
first  at  the  joke.  The  drawing  is  accepted  or  re- 
jected on  the  joke.  We  can  only  be  glad  that 
this  was  not  entirely  the  editorial  practice  on 
Punch  in  du  Maurier’s  time.  Perhaps  the  sub- 
joined “joke”  of  du  Maurier’s  from  Punch  is  the 
worst  in  the  world  : 


Sketch  for  illustration  for  “ Wives  and  Daughters  ” 

1865. 


3 6 f ' ' • ■ : li 

i 

i company). 

I see  your  servants  wear  co.k  - 

“Yes,  Pa's  just  become  a raern  md. 

,<  Stores  ■ 

. aialrigufiCI  bns  aaviW  ” ioi  noihmaulli  *ioi  rbi^g 

- 

and  to  recording  he  never  failed  for  subject* 
we  suppose  as  a concession  to  a section  of  the  public 
he  felt  a leaven  of  mere  jokes  was  demanded  from 
him  every  year.  The  scene  of  his  struggle  to  invent 
those  “ okes  ” is  one  to  be  veiled.  It  is  safe  to  say 
that  it  is  his  distinction  to  have  contributed  at  once 
the  best  satire  and  the  worst  jokes  that  Punch 

' 

told  the  writer  that  the  -^/-Editors  of  look 

this  was  pot  entirely  the  edif  .1) 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  37 

“ I say,  cousin  Constance,  I’ve  found  out  why  you 
always  call  your  Mamma  ‘ Mater.’  ” 

“ Why,  Guy  ? ” 

“ Because  she’s  always  trying  to  find  a mate  for  you 
girls.” 

And  yet  if  the  drawing  accompanying  this  joke  be 
looked  at  first , it  delights  with  its  charm  and  dis- 
tinction. Here  then  is  a psychological  fact  ; the 
drawing  itself  seems  to  the  eye  a poorer  affair  once 
the  poor  joke  has  been  read.  Having  suffered  in 
this  way  several  times  in  following  with  admiration 
the  pencil  of  du  Maurier  through  the  old  volumes 
of  Punch , we  at  last  hit  upon  the  plan  of  always 
covering  the  joke  and  enjoying  first  the  picture  for 
its  own  sake,  only  uncovering  the  legend  when  this 
has  been  thoroughly  appreciated  lest  it  should  turn 
out  to  be  merely  a feeble  joke  instead  of  a happily- 
invented  conversation.  There  are  some  of  the 
drawings  for  jokes  which  we  should  very  much  like 
to  have  included  with  our  illustrations,  but  the 
human  mind  being  so  constituted  that  it  goes  direct 
to  the  legend  of  an  illustration,  feeling  “ sold  ” if  it 
isn’t  there,  and  the  “jokes”  in  some  of  these 
instances  being  so  fatal  to  the  understanding  of  the 
atmosphere  and  charm  of  the  drawing,  we  have  had 


38  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

to  abandon  the  idea  of  doing  so.  What  the  reader 
has  to  understand  is  that  circumstances  harnessed  du 
Maurier  to  a certain  business  ; he  imported  all 
manner  of  extraneous  graces  into  it,  and  thus  gave  a 
determination  to  the  character  of  the  art  of  satire 
which  it  will  never  lose.  The  pages  of  Punch  were 
enriched,  beautified,  and  made  more  delicately  human. 
Punch  gained  everything  through  the  connection 
and  du  Maurier  a stimulus  in  the  demand  for  regular 
work.  But  it  is  not  impossible  to  imagine  circum- 
stances which,  but  for  this  early  connection  with 
Punch , would  have  awakened  and  developed  a dif- 
ferent and  perhaps  profounder  side  of  du  Maurier,  of 
which  we  seem  to  get  a glimpse  in  the  illustrations 
to  Meredith  in  The  Cornhill  Magazine. 


The  famous  reply  of  an  early  Editor  to  the  usual 
complaint  that  Punch  was  not  as  good  as  it  used  to 
be — “ No,  sir,  it  never  was” — cannot  be  considered 
to  hold  good  in  any  comparison  between  the  present 
period  and  that  in  which  the  arts  of  du  Maurier  and 
Keene  held  sway.  There  have  been  periods,  there 
is  such  a one  now,  when  the  literary  side  of  Punch 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  39 

has  touched  a high-water  mark.  But  on  the  illus- 
trative side  Punch  seems  to  be  always  hoping  that 
another  Keene  or  du  Maurier  will  turn  up.  It  does 
not  seem  prepared  to  accept  work  in  quite  another 
style.  But  there  is  no  more  chance  of  there  ever 
being  another  Keene  than  of  there  being  another 
Rembrandt,  or  of  there  ever  being  another  du  Maurier 
than  another  Watteau.  The  next  genius  to  whom 
it  is  given  to  illuminate  the  pages  of  the  classic 
journal  in  a style  that  will  rival  the  past  is  not  likely 
to  arise  from  among  those  who  think  that  there  is 
no  other  view  of  life  than  that  which  was  discovered 
by  their  immediate  predecessors.  By  force  of  his 
genius — or,  if  you  prefer  it,  of  sympathy — which 
means  the  same  thing — for  some  particular  phase  of 
life,  some  artist  may  at  any  moment  uncover  in  its 
pages  an  altogether  fresh  kind  of  humour  and  of 
beauty. 


4o 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


§9 

Du  Maurier’s  art  covers  the  period  when  England 
was  flushed  with  success.  Artists  in  such  times 
grow  wealthy,  and  by  their  work  refine  their  time. 
But  in  spite  of  the  number  of  wealthy  Academicians 
living  upon  Society  in  the  mid-Victorian  time,  the 
influence  of  Art  upon  Society  was  less  than  at  any 
time  in  history  in  which  circumstances  have  been 
favourable  to  the  artist. 

The  great  wave  of  trade  that  carried  the  shop- 
keeper into  the  West-end  drawing-room  strewed  also 
the  curtains  and  carpets  with  that  outrageous  weed 
of  trade  design  which  gave  to  the  mid-Victorian 
world  its  complexion  of  singular  hideousness. 

The  aesthetic  movement  indicated  the  restlessness 
of  some  of  the  brighter  spirits  with  this  condition, 
but  many  of  its  remedies  were  worse  than  the 
disease.  The  nouveau  artist-craftsman  stood  less 
chance  than  anybody  of  getting  back  to  the  secret 
of  noble  things,  having  forsaken  the  path  of  pure 
utility  which,  wherever  it  may  go  for  a time,  always 
leads  back  again  to  beauty.  The  disappearance  of 
beauty  for  a time  need  not  have  been  a cause  of 
despair.  Beauty  will  always  come  back  if  it  is  left 


THE  WORLD  OF  DU  MAURIER  41 

alone.  People  had  been  swept  off  their  feet  with 
delight  at  what  machinery  could  do,  and  they  ex- 
pected beauty  to  come  out  of  it  as  a product  at  the 
same  pace  as  everything  else.  It  was  not  a mistake 
to  expect  it  from  any  source,  but  from  this  particular 
source  it  could  only  come  with  time.  There  is 
evidence  that  it  is  on  the  way.  And  yet  though 
the  results  of  crude  mechanical  industrialism  spoilt 
the  outward  appearance  of  the  whole  of  the  Victorian 
age,  the  earlier  part  at  least  of  that  time  was  one  of 
marked  personal  refinement.  We  have  but  to  look 
at  portraits  by  George  Richmond  and  others  to 
receive  a great  impression  of  distinction.  And  this 
fact  enables  us  to  throw  into  clearer  light  the  exact 
nature  of  du  Maurier’s  work.  If  we  seek  for  evi- 
dence in  the  old  volumes  of  Punch  for  the  distinc- 
tion of  the  early  Victorians  we  shall  not  find  it. 
We  shall  merely  conceive  instead  a dislike  for  the 
type  of  gentleman  of  the  time.  Leech  and  his 
contemporaries  did  nothing  more  for  their  age  than 
to  make  it  look  ridiculous  for  ever.  But  du  Maurier 
gives  us  a real  impression  of  the  Society  in  which  he 
moved.  His  ability  to  satirise  society  while  still 
leaving  it  its  dignity  is  unique.  It  may  be  said  to 
be  his  distinctive  contribution  to  the  art  of  graphic 


42 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


satire.  It  gave  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  school  its 
present-day  characteristic,  putting  upon  one  of  the 
very  lightest  forms  of  art  the  stamp  of  a noble  time. 
The  point  is  that  whilst  du  Maurier  thus  deferred 
to  the  dignity  of  human  nature  he  remained  a 
satirist,  not  a humorist  merely,  as  was  Keene. 


a 


II 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 

§ 1 

If  we  wish  to  estimate  the  art  of  du  Maurier  at  its 
full  worth  we  must  try  and  imagine  Punch  from 
1863  without  this  art,  and  try  for  a moment  to 
conceive  the  difference  this  absence  would  make  to 
our  own  present  knowledge  of  the  Victorians  ; also 
to  the  picture  always  entertained  of  England 
abroad. 

If  we  are  to  believe  du  Maurier’s  art  England 
is  a petticoat-governed  country.  The  men  in  his 
pictures  are  often  made  to  recede  into  the  back- 
ground of  Victorian  ornament  merely  as  orna- 
ments themselves.  As  for  the  women,  the  mask  of 
manner,  the  pleasantness  concealing  every  shade  of 
uncharitableness,  all  the  arts  of  the  contention  for 
social  precedence — in  the  interpretation  of  this  sort 

43 


44 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


of  thing  du  Maurier  is  often  quite  uncanny,  but  he 
is  never  ruthless. 

We  have  noticed  that  when  du  Maurier  tried  to 
draw  ugly  people  he  often  only  succeeded  in  turning 
out  a figure  of  fun.  Not  to  be  beautiful  and 
charming  is  to  fail  of  being  human,  seems  the 
judgment  of  his  pencil.  This  was  his  limitation. 
And  another  was  that,  whilst  professing  to  be  con- 
cerned with  humanity  as  a whole,  he  nearly  always 
broke  down  with  types  that  outraged  the  polite 
standard.  He  was  a master  in  the  description  of 
Bishops  and  Curates,  Generals  and  Men-about-town, 
but  he  broke  down  when  he  came  to  “ the  out- 
sider.” And,  as  we  have  already  pointed  out,  he 
seldom  got  away  from  types  to  individuals. 

In  the  last  respect,  however,  we  gain  more 
perhaps  than  we  lose.  We  gain  a very  vivid  im- 
pression of  the  whole  tone  of  the  society  in  his  time. 
And  the  fact  of  his  art  passing  over  the  individual, 
for  ever  prevented  it  from  cruelty,  for  to  be  cruel 
the  individual  must  be  hit.  He  did  not  satirise 
humanity,  but  Society.  And  his  criticism  was  not 
of  its  members,  but  of  its  ways.  Except  in  the  case 
of  children,  he  left  unrevealed  the  individual  heart 
that  Keene  so  sympathetically  exposed. 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


45 


He  made  an  original — and  who  will  deny  it  ? — a 
unique  contribution  to  the  history  of  satire,  when  he 
went  to  work  through  literalness  and  care  for  beauty 
in  a field  where  nearly  all  previous  success  had 
rested  with  a sort  of  ruffianism.  But  chiefly  one 
praises  Heaven  for  the  nurseryful  of  delightful 
children  he  let  loose  in  his  pages  against  the 
army  of  little  monsters  who  reign  as  children  in 
the  Comic  Press,  bearing  witness  as  they  do  to 
the  unpleasant  kind  of  mind  even  an  artist  can 
possess. 

Though  he  ridiculed  “ Camelot,”  his  own 
tradition,  as  we  have  shown,  was  received  from 
the  Arthurian  source.  His  chivalry  gave  his  satire 
a very  delicate  edge.  It  was  infinitely  more  cutting 
in  showing  the  misfit  of  vulgarity  with  beauty  than 
in  showing  vulgarity  alone. 

But  du  Maurier’s  gentlemanliness  narrowed  his 
range.  It  forced  him  into  putting  down  something 
preposterous  instead  of  a true  type  as  soon  as  he 
wished  to  create  “ a bounder.”  He  found  it  im- 
possible to  get  inside  of  a “ bounder  ” — to  be  for 
the  time  a “ bounder  ” himself.  It  is  necessary  for 
an  artist  to  be  able  to  be  every  character  that  he 
would  create.  And  perhaps  a satirist  never  wounds 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


46 

others  so  much  as  when  he  most  wounds  himself. 
Thackeray  succeeded  with  snobbery  because  he  had 
enough  of  it  to  go  on  with  himself.  We  have 
shown  the  success  of  du  Maurier  with  the  aesthetes 
to  go  upon  similar  lines.  The  soul  of  satire  is 
very  often  the  bitterness  of  confession.  In  his  very 
style  the  satirist  of  the  aesthetes  stood  confessed 
almost  as  one  of  their  number,  whether  he  wished 
this  to  be  seen  or  not — at  least  as  one  of  the 
romantic  school  from  whom  they  immediately 
descended.  But  he  was  genuine  ; where  Postle- 
thwaite  and  Maudle  posed,  his  irritation  was  with 
the  pose,  the  pretended  preoccupation  with  beauty. 
He  genuinely  admired  the  Florentine  revival,  and 
to  admire  is  to  be  jealous  of  those  who  take  in 
vain.  He  wished  to  show  up  the  “ aesthetes  ” as 
the  parasites  they  were,  trading  socially  upon  an 
inspiration  too  fragrant  to  be  traded  with  at  all. 

Du  Maurier,  who  assuredly  knew  what  elegance 
was  as  well  as  any  man  of  his  time,  took  a great 
delight  in  pointing  out  to  all  whom  it  might 
concern,  by  illustration,  that  if  there  was  any  beauty 
of  representation  possible  to  him,  as  an  artist,  in 
depicting  modern  society,  it  was  not  in  anything 
put  forward  in  the  shape  of  costume  by  the  ladies 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER  47 

of  the  aesthetic  movement,  but  in  the  unacknow- 
ledged genius  of  ordinary  dressmakers. 

It  was  in  his  time  that  Philistinism  met  its  match 
in  Oscar  Wilde,  and  for  the  first  time  in  its  history 
felt  its  self-complacency  shaken.  Up  to  that  time 
it  had  been  very  proud  of  itself.  With  the  loss  of 
that  pride  it  blundered,  and  it  remained  for  du 
Maurier  to  show  that  the  height  of  Philistinism  in 
a Philistine  is  to  pretend  not  to  be  a Philistine. 

He  had  always  seen  what  it  would  do  present- 
day  Londoners  a world  of  good  to  see  as  clearly, 
that  it  is  just  those  who  affect,  and  who,  by  their 
lack  of  artistic  constitution,  are  incapable  of  doing 
more  than  merely  affecting,  the  understanding  of 
art,  who  are  the  worst  enemies  it  has  in  the  world. 
He  preferred  the  open  Philistine.  And  so  do  we. 
The  affectation  described  lends  to  art  an  artificial 
support  which  betrays  those  who  attempt  to  rest 
any  scheme  for  the  promotion  of  art  upon  it. 

But  though  du  Maurier  was  not  a Philistine  he 
had  the  genius  of  respectability.  His  pencil  could 
get  on  well  with  Bishops.  It  is  easy  enough  to 
put  a model  into  a Bishop’s  apron  and  gaiters,  but 
that  does  not  secure  the  drawing  of  a Bishop.  It 
is  necessary  to  observe  that  du  Maurier  found  de- 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


48 

finite  lines  with  his  pencil  for  something  so  abstract 
as  Broad-Churchmanship.  The  High-Churchman, 
with  his  perilous  inclination  to  fervour,  he  was  afraid 
of  as  a disturbing  element,  and  kept  him  out  of 
his  drawings. 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


49 


§2 

We  have  noted  that  it  was  du  Maurier’s  peculiar 
genius  to  respond  to  “ attainment  ” in  life,  even  as 
the  Greeks  did,  rather  than  to  life’s  pathetic  and 
romantic  struggle.  Du  Maurier,  we  believe,  was 
of  opinion  that  if  circumstances — he  probably  meant 
Editorial  ones — had  determined  that  he  should 
apply  his  art  to  the  lower  classes  he  would  have 
succeeded  as  well  there  as  he  did  with  Society.  We 
prefer  to  believe  that  the  Editorial  instinct  in  the 
direction  it  gave  to  his  work  knew  better.  Many 
opportunities  were  afforded  him  for  being  as  demo- 
cratic in  spirit  as  he  liked,  but  he  left  such  oppor- 
tunities alone.  His  cab-runners  run  about  in  rain- 
shrunken  suits  that  were  obviously  made  in  Savile 
Row  ; everyone  of  them,  they  are  broken-down 
gentlemen.  Coachmen,  gardeners,  footmen,  pages, 
housekeepers,  cooks,  ladies’  maids,  and  all  those 
who  move  in  the  domestic  circle  of  the  upper 
classes  he  could  draw,  but  his  taste  in  life  is  a 
marked  one,  and  that  means  it  is  a limited  one. 
It  is  as  marked  as  Meredith’s,  and  it  is  much  of 
the  same  kind  ; like  that  writer’s  great  lady,  Mrs. 
Mountstuart  Jenkinson,  he  preferred  persons  “ that 

D 


5° 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


shone  in  the  sun.”  This  had  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  qualities  of  the  heart  ; it  was  all  an 
aesthetic  predilection.  The  moment  his  pencil 
touched  the  theme  of  life  lived  upon  as  gentle  a 
plane  as  possible,  then  something  was  kindled  at 
its  point  which  betrayed  the  presence  of  genuine 
inspiration.  The  inspiration  was  of  the  same  nature 
as  Watteau’s,  the  grace  of  a certain  aspect  of  life 
making  an  aesthetic  appeal.  Let  this  attraction  to 
what  is  gracious  in  appearance,  however,  be  kept 
distinct  from  the  effect  made  by  the  spectacle  of 
wealth  upon  the  snob.  Those  who  show  us  the 
beauty  in  the  world,  enrich  the  world  with  that 
much  of  beauty. 

In  his  Life  and  Letters  of  Charles  Keene , Mr. 
G.  S.  Layard  1 says  this  : — 

“ That  Keene  could  have  drawn  the  lovely  be- 
Worthed  young  ladies  and  the  splendidly  propor- 
tioned and  frock-coated  young  men  with  which 
Mr.  du  Maurier  delights  us  week  by  week,  not  to 
speak  of  the  god-like  hero  of  his  charming  novel,  I do 
not  think  anyone  can  doubt,  had  he  set  himself  to  do 
it,  but  it  was  part  of  the  ineradicable  Bohemianism 

1 The  Life  and  Letters  of  Charles  Samuel  Keene , by  Charles  Somes 
Layard.  London  : Sampson  Low,  Marston  & Co.,  Ltd.,  1892. 


Pencil  Studies  from  the  Artist’s  Sketch  Book 


o 

predilection. 

, nod  the  theme  of  life  it 
lane  as  possible,  then  someth, 
its  point  which  betrayed  the  pr c 
inspiration.  The  inspiration  was  o‘  a*4*i**l 

as  Watteau’s,  the  grace  of  a certain 
making  an  aesthetic  appeal.  Let  th  *. 

.^looH.  rf&Jfo&s  z 3sinA iion^  1 

distinct  from  the  effect  made  by  the  spectacle 
wealth  upon  the  snob.  Those  who  show  us  the 
beauty  in  the  world,  enrich  the  world  with  that 
much  of  beauty. 

In  his  Lfe  ind  Letters  of  Charles  Keene , Mr. 
G.  S.  Layard 1 says  this  > — 

“ That  Keene  could  have  drawn  the  lovely  be- 
Worthed  young  ladies  and  the  splendidly  propor- 
tioned and  frock-coated  young  men  wir!  huh 
Mr.  du  Maurier  delights  us  week  by  * nm  roj 
speak  of  the  god-like  hero  of  his  char 
hot  think  anyone  can  doubt,  hau  ht  > 

it,  but  it  was  part  of  the  inerad 

- 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


5i 


of  his  character  and  the  realistic  bent  of  his  genius 
that  made  him  shun  the  representation  of  what  he 
considered  artificial  and  an  outrage  upon  nature.” 

This,  it  will  perhaps  be  admitted,  is  not  very 
good  art-criticism.  Though  in  justice  to  its  author 
it  must  be  said  that  he  did  not  wish  to  be  regarded 
as  Keene’s  critic  as  well  as  biographer. 

An  artist  does  not  argue  with  himself  that 
he  will  shun  the  representation  of  one  particular 
side  of  life.  He  simply  leaves  it  alone  because  he 
cannot  help  it  ; it  does  not  attract  him.  He  draws 
just  that  which  interests  him  most  and  in  the  way  in 
which  it  interests  him  ; and  exactly  to  the  measure 
of  his  interest  does  his  drawing  possess  vitality. 
Keene  might  have  expressed  with  pungency  his 
sense  of  certain  things  as  being  artificial  and  out- 
rageous, but  as  long  as  his  feelings  towards  them 
remained  like  that  he  could  not  express  himself 
about  them  in  any  other  way,  certainly  not  in  du 
Maurier’ s way — that  is,  with  du  Maurier’ s skill. 

To  the  extent  to  which  there  is  a glamour  and  a 
beauty  in  fashion  du  Maurier  is  a realist.  People  who 
only  now  and  then  become  sensible  of  the  charm  in 
things  are  provoked  by  its  strangeness  in  art,  and 
call  it  romance,  their  definition  for  an  untrue  thing. 


52 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


§ 3 

During  the  period  of  thirty-six  years  over  which 
du  Maurier  contributed  to  Punch  the  paper  took 
upon  itself  a character  unlike  anything  that  had 
preceded  it  in  comic  journalism  ; it  created  a tra- 
dition for  itself  which  placed  it  beside  'The  Times 
— the  “ Thunderer,”  as  one  of  the  institutions  of 
this  country,  recognised  abroad  as  essentially  expres- 
sive of  national  character.  English  humour,  like 
American  and  French,  has  its  own  flavour  ; it  lacks 
the  high  and  extravagant  fantasy  that  is  so  ex- 
hilarating in  America  ; it  avoids  the  subtlety  of 
France  ; it  is  essentially  a laughing  humour.  The 
Englishman,  who  cannot  stand  chaff  himself,  always 
laughs  at  others.  It  is  curious  that  while  an  English- 
man’s conventions  rest  upon  dislike  of  what  is  odd 
and  fantastic — precisely  the  two  most  well-known 
sources  of  humour — he  yet  has  a sense  of  humour. 
The  first  aim  of  every  Englishman  is  to  acquire  a 
manner  of  some  dignity.  It  is  the  breaking  down 
of  that  dignity  in  other  people  that  to  his  eyes 
places  them  in  a light  that  is  funny. 

English  humour  seems  to  find  its  object  in 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


53 

physical  rather  than  mental  aspects.  The  very 
notable  feature  of  du  Maurier’s  work  was  that  it 
refined  upon  the  characteristics  of  English  humour  ; 
it  dealt  always  with  people  placed  by  an  absurd 
speech,  or  an  unlucky  gesture,  in  a foolish  position — 
a position  the  shy  distress  of  which  was  a physical 
experience.  Du  Maurier’s  humour  was  also  English 
in  its  kindness  ; the  points  that  are  scored  against 
the  unfortunate  object  of  it  are  the  points  that  may 
be  scored  against  the  laugher  himself  to-morrow. 
His  pictures  were  a running  commentary  upon  the 
refinements  of  our  manners  and  upon  the  quick 
changes  of  moral  costume  that  fresh  situations  in 
the  social  comedy  demand. 

One  thing  peculiarly  fitted  the  artist  to  be  the 
satirist  of  English  Society — his  love  of  the  comedy 
of  people  by  nature  honest  finding  themselves  only 
able  to  get  through  the  day  with  decent  politeness 
by  the  aid  of  “ the  lie  to  follow.”  English  people, 
Puritan  by  ancestry  and  by  inclination,  are  never- 
theless driven  into  frequent  subterfuge  by  their 
good  nature,  and  having  pared  their  language  and 
gesture  of  that  extravagance  in  expression  which 
they  despise  in  the  foreigner,  they  are  thrown  back 
upon  a naturalness  that  betrays  them  in  delicate 


54 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


situations.  The  consequence  is  that  it  is  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  Society  at  its  best  that  the  art  of  delicate 
fence  in  conversation  has  been  brought  to  its  highest 
pitch.  There  the  clairvoyance  is  so  great  that  words 
can  be  used  economically  in  relation  to  the  realities 
of  life,  and  are  consequently  often  adopted  merely 
as  a screen  before  the  feelings. 

We  have  to  realise  how  much  more  than  any 
one  preceding  him  in  graphic  satire  du  Maurier 
was  able  to  dispense  with  exaggeration.  Neverthe- 
less, the  studied  avoidance  of  exaggeration  has  not 
had  the  happiest  effect  as  a precedent  in  the  art 
of  Punch . Without  du  Maurier’s  sensitive  response 
to  the  whole  comedy  of  drawing-room  life  the 
tendency  has  been  to  lapse  into  the  merely  photo- 
graphic. 

The  similitude  we  have  already  described  between 
du  Maurier  s art  with  the  pencil  and  the  art  of  the 
modern  novel  is  not  complete  until  we  have  extended 
it  further  in  the  direction  of  a comparison  with 
novels  of  George  Meredith  and  Henry  James  in 
particular.  Like  these  two  writers  du  Maurier 
loved  comedy,  and  your  appreciator  of  comedy  cannot 
stand  the  presence  of  a “ funny  man.”  In  the  pages 
of  Punch  it  was  Leech  and  not  du  Maurier  who 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


55 


first  replaced  the  art  of  the  merely  “funny  man.” 
He  began  with  the  pencil  the  kind  of  art  that 
would  answer  to  Meredith’s  description  of  the  comic 
muse.  Throughout  "The  Egoist , by  George  Meredith, 
a comedy  in  which  Clara  Middleton’s  life  comes 
near  to  being  tragic,  the  air  would  clear  at  any 
moment  if  Sir  Willoughby  and  Clara  had  not  both 
lost  through  over-civilisation  the  power  of  saying 
precisely  what  they  mean.  The  book  is  the  story 
of  how  Clara  tries  to  find  words,  and  of  how, 
when  she  finds  them,  the  conversational  genius  of 
Willoughby  seemingly  deflects  them  from  the  mean- 
ing she  intends  them  to  bear.  It  was  in  the  mid- 
region between  two  people  in  conversation  where 
false  constructions  are  put  by  either  party  upon 
what  is  said  that  du  Maurier,  like  Meredith  him- 
self, perceived  the  source  of  comedy  was  to  be 
found. 

§ 4 

We  have  already  defined  the  drawing-room  as 
a Victorian  institution.  It  belonged  to  an  age 
that  was  willing  to  sacrifice  too  much  to  appear- 
ances— one  in  which  everyone  seemed  to  live  for 
appearances.  It  was  a sort  of  stage,  occupied  by 


56  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

people  in  afternoon  or  evening  costume,  with  even 
the  chairs  arranged,  not  where  they  were  wanted, 
but  where  they  made  a good  appearance.  Oscar 
Wilde  suggested  to  the  Victorians  that  they  shouldn’t 
arrange  chairs  ; they  should  let  them  occur.  Against 
the  false  setting  manners  were  bound  to  become  false 
— good  manners  becoming  almost  synonymous  with 
perfect  insincerity.  Perhaps  the  only  thing  that 
ever  really  came  to  life  in  a drawing-room  was  the 
aesthetic  movement  ! At  its  worst  it  was  what  we 
have  described  it  ; at  its  best  it  was  a sort  of  blind 
protest  against  the  patterns  of  chair-covers  that  the 
eye  was  bound  to  absorb  while  listening  to  the 
inanities  of  drawing-room  conversation.  It  is  signi- 
ficant that  the  aesthetic  movement  was  a man’s  move- 
ment. Until  the  leader  of  the  movement  appeared 
on  the  scene,  the  decoration  of  the  Victorian,  as 
distinct  from  the  Georgian  parlour,  or  that  of  every 
other  period,  was  woman’s  business.  Most  of  the 
Victorian  patterns  embodied  naturalistic  and  senti- 
mental representations  of  flowers.  It  was  with  the 
disappearance  of  the  eighteenth-century  tradition, 
when  drawing-room  decoration  passed  out  of  the 
hands  of  men,  that  beauty  disappeared.  Women 
took  to  heaping  masses  of  drapery  on  to  the  mantel- 


Illustration  for  “A  Legend  of  Camelot  ” — Part  III. 

Punch , 

March  17,  1866. 

A little  castle  she  drew  nigh, 

With  seven  towers  twelve  inches  high  . . . 

© ffltsme ! 

A baby  castle,  all  a-flame 

With  many  a flower  that  hath  no  name, 

© fHtgerte! 

It  had  a little  moat  all  round  : 

A little  drawbridge  too  she  found  ; 

© fHteerie! 

On  which  there  stood  a stately  maid, 

Like  her  in  radiant  locks  arrayed.  . . . 

© ffltgrric! 

Save  that  her  locks  grew  rank  and  wild, 

By  weaver’s  shuttle  undefiled  ! . . . 

© jWteerie! 

Who  held  her  brush  and  comb,  as  if 
Her  faltering  hands  had  waxed  stiff, 

© JEtssette! 

With  baulkt  endeavour  ! whence  she  sung 
A chant,  the  burden  whereof  rung  : 

© itftsme! 

“ These  hands  have  striven  in  vain 
To  part 

These  locks  that  won  Gauwaine 
His  heart  ! ” 


56 


III  m(I 


lobmJ.O  to  brrjg-jJ  A “ 


-ed, 


lains  arranged,  not 

,dgut  -wnli 

rf-airf  «rion  a/bwi  mw'l  na  r.s  nil  n 
etfin  j mam  Vnneiftt  © 

rood  manners  becoming9r^(.f,..J.  !Ib  >(dsd  A 

:rfect  insincerity,  on  Bed  iltiawoH  r.  -(oum 

h<  ' rrn  cir.  W§¥  3U1,{t  ‘;  3/  . vi  . 

...  ; l.nin.l  adz  ooiaablldwinb  A 

1 . .bjiK-visiidi'jthdlcbdi sceofc^'Jto  the 

,bliw  h(u;  hmw*%  IS^a1#.’  'f  '^move- 
ment. Until  the  lead  1 j ! t e^t" appeared 

on  the  cene,  ‘Kjf^at^on  ri§£ M bi&<&Wan>  as 

istinct  tro  th.  ^ i , / bo /d V pat k&UfiJ  jjfiibiriat-nt®  t ry 

\ -t  j viti^oaideaibotijeliufrm'-^rall^^f^  il‘‘  ^ ■-.*■*- 

. 

hands  of  men,  that  eiooi  ^ r .liCn 

! riK3ri'?iii 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


57 


pieces  which  had  once  displayed  classic  proportion  ; 
on  to  this  drapery  they  pinned  all  sorts  of  horrible 
fans.  Du  Maurier  exposed  it  all,  and  he  exposed, 
too,  the  aesthetes  to  whom  the  salvation  of  the  appear- 
ance of  a suburban  drawing-room  could  come  to 
mean  more  than  anything  else  in  life.  Their  fault 
was  not  confined  to  this.  He  always  brought  their 
“ intensity  ” as  a charge  against  them,  for  it  is  of 
the  very  genius  of  good  manners  to  merely  froth 
about  things  which,  if  taken  seriously,  would  tend 
to  destroy  amenity. 

It  is  interesting,  as  an  addition  to  the  comparison 
we  have  drawn  between  Meredith  and  du  Maurier, 
to  note  that  of  the  illustrators  to  Meredith’s  own 
novels  it  was  the  latter  who  seemed  to  experience 
life  in  a mood  similar  to  the  author’s.  In  illustrat- 
ing Harry  Richmond  he  secured  the  Meredithian 
sense  of  romance  and  of  pedigree  in  scenes  as  well 
as  people.  However  modern  Meredith’s  characters 
were,  they  were  all  the  children  of  old-fashioned 
people  ; within  them  all  was  the  pride  of  the  family 
tree,  and,  in  the  scenes  in  which  they  move,  the 
memory  of  an  older  world.  Du  Maurier,  too,  in 
his  art  was  a patrician,  and  when  he  gave  up 
romance  and  took  to  satire  pure  and  simple  he  put 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


58 

both  beauty  and  dignity  into  the  world  that  he 
described.  All  the  time  he  was  drawing  his  Society 
world  others  were  working  the  same  vein.  But 
to  him  alone  it  seemed  to  be  given  to  glimpse  the 
splendour  of  it,  and  to  suggest  the  link  of  romance 
that  holds  the  present  and  the  past  together. 

Let  us  praise  that  very  wise  Editor  who,  appreci- 
ating the  artist’s  character,  confined  him  to  the  art 
most  natural  to  him.  What  has  become  of  Editors 
of  this  kind  to-day  ? Is  not  this  the  very  genius 
of  the  art  of  editing — this  and  not  the  wholly 
fictitious  “ what  the  public  wants  ? ” Who  knows 
what  the  public  want  but  the  public  themselves  ? 
It  is  the  artist  who  is  allowed  by  his  Editor  to  go 
his  own  way,  who  takes  the  public  with  him.  If 
he  has  not  the  same  sympathies  as  the  public  no 
Editorial  direction  will  save  the  situation,  while 
it  will  drive  perhaps  a fine  artist  away  to  another 
trade. 


§5 

After  the  appearance  of  his  first  drawing  in 
Punchy  for  more  than  a year  du  Maurier’s  connection 
with  the  paper  seems  to  have  been  maintained  by 
the  execution  of  initial  letters  for  it.  Mr.  W.  L. 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


59 


Bradbury,  zealous  in  the  preservation  of  all  records 
that  redound  to  the  glory  of  Punchy  has  in  one  or 
two  instances  had  pulls  taken  from  the  wood  blocks 
upon  special  paper.  These  special  proofs  show  all 
the  charm  of  wood  engraving.  In  the  case  of  the 
initial  large  C,  reproduced  on  page  91,  Mr.  Brad- 
bury’s specimen  shows  the  beautiful  quality  which 
in  our  own  time  Mr.  Sturge  Moore  and  Mr. 
Pissarro  are  at  such  pains  to  secure  in  engravings 
made  for  love  of  the  art.  One  only  wishes  that  the 
exigencies  of  book-production  would  allow  us  to 
attempt  rivalry  with  Mr.  Bradbury’s  specimen  in 
our  reproduction.  But  we  see  no  reason  why 
specimens  of  the  wood-printing  of  du  Maurier’s 
work  should  not  be  on  view  in  the  British  Museum. 
The  “ impressions  ” in  old  volumes  of  Punchy  after 
the  wear  and  tear,  the  opening  and  the  shutting,  and 
the  effect  of  time  are  not  an  adequate  record  of  du 
Maurier’s  skill  in  accommodating  his  art  to  the 
methods  of  reproduction  of  the  period. 

Moreover,  du  Maurier  was  better  in  securing  an 
effect  of  painting  than  of  pure  line  work  with  his 
pen.  It  is  just  this  effect  which  suited  the  methods 
of  engraving  better  than  those  of  “ process  ” work. 
And  because  it  demanded  drawing  to  a smaller  scale, 


6o 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


with  lines  closer  together,  the  demands  of  engraving 
suited  the  nature  of  du  Maurier’s  art  better  than 
those  of  “ process  ” work. 

When  the  modern  process  came  in  artists  en- 
larged their  drawings  so  as  to  secure  delicacy  of 
effect  from  the  result  of  the  reduction  in  printing. 
In  such  a case  they  really  work  for  the  sake  of  a 
result  upon  the  printed  page,  and  there  is  conse- 
quently less  value  to  be  attached  to  the  original 
drawing.  It  generally  errs  on  the  side  of  coarseness. 
And  now  that  a trade  is  driven  in  original  drawings, 
artists  are  tempted  to  give  the  purchaser  as  much  in 
the  matter  of  size  for  his  money  as  he  may  want. 
And,  alas,  it  is  true  that  many  picture  buyers  do  buy 
according  to  measurement,  or  anything  else  on  earth 
rather  than  merit. 

Du  Maurier  could  add  a reason  of  his  own  for 
availing  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  enlarge  his 
drawings  when  he  could,  namely,  that  of  his  weak 
sight.  But  it  is  certainly  not  among  the  large 
drawings  that  we  should  look  for  the  work  that 
places  him  in  the  place  we  wish  to  claim  for 
him. 

It  will  well  repay  the  student  of  du  Maurier’s  art 
to  look  into  the  illustration  for  the  novel  Wives  and 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER  61 

Daughters  reproduced  on  page  26.  In  this  very  highly 
finished  picture  the  drawing  of  all  the  detail  seems 
done  with  the  greatest  pleasure  to  the  artist.  It  has 
not  the  breadth  of  style  which  du  Maurier  himself 
could  admire  in  Keene,  but  the  line  work  is  intensely 
sympathetic  throughout  ; there  is  that  enjoyment 
in  the  actual  touch  of  pen  to  paper  which  was 
always  characteristic  of  Keene,  which  is  always 
special  to  great  art  ; which,  alas,  was  not  always 
characteristic  of  du  Maurier.  It  is  like  the  touch 
of  a sympathetic  musician.  Du  Maurier,  always 
generous  to  his  contemporaries,  in  his  lecture  upon 
art,  instances  the  natural  skill  of  Walker  by  his 
success  with  the  difficulties  of  drawing  a tall  hat. 
But  Walker  himself  has  nothing  of  this  kind  better 
to  show  than  the  hat  in  the  picture  we  are  de- 
scribing. 

§6 

In  the  early  eighties  the  change  was  made  from 
drawing  on  wood  to  drawing  on  paper  for  Punchy 
the  drawing  being  afterwards  photographed  on  to 
the  wood.  Later,  metal  was  made  possible  as  a 
substitute  for  wood,  and  this  enabled  illustrations  and 
letterpress  to  be  printed  together.  The  modern 


62 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


process  of  reproduction  has  introduced  its  own 
pleasant  qualities  into  journalism,  and  because  they 
are  different  in  effect  they  do  not  rival  the  effect 
of  wood  engraving. 

The  modern  methods  reproduce  the  black  lines 
of  a drawing  direct.  But  the  most  practised  en- 
gravers cut  out  the  whites  of  a drawing  with  their 
graver  from  between  the  black  lines.  This  un- 
doubtedly allowed  the  artist  a closer  and  less  re- 
stricted use  of  line  than  modern  illustration  shows 
us.  If  the  reader  examines  du  Maurier’s  illustration 
for  The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond  on  page  106, 
he  will  be  able  to  see  at  a glance  how,  by  cutting  out 
the  whites  in  the  multiplicity  of  ivy  leaves,  detailed 
drawing  has  been  re-interpreted  in  the  engraving 
with  great  economy. 

Some  of  the  pleasantness  of  the  effect  of  lines 
printed  from  a woodcut  is  due  to  the  fact  that  they 
print  a more  clearly  cut  line.  The  line  eaten  in 
by  “ process  ” when  examined  under  a very  strong 
magnifying  glass  proves  to  be  a slightly  jagged  one. 
But  we  should  rejoice  that  the  art  of  reproduction 
for  journalistic  purposes  is  free  of  the  laborious 
method  of  engraving,  and  from  the  sort  of  work 
that  was  put  up  by  over-tired  engravers  when  they 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER  63 

fought  their  last  round  to  lose,  against  the  modern 
invention  of  picture  reproduction. 

There  is  no  rivalry  in  art.  All  the  rivalry  is  in 
the  business  connected  with  it.  A wood-engraving 
possesses  a charm  of  its  own  for  those  whose  sense 
of  quality  is  delicate  enough  for  its  appreciation. 
The  life  of  this  art,  apart  from  the  purpose  of  weekly 
journalism,  is  safe.  The  life  of  any  art  is  safe  while 
it  commands,  as  wood  engraving  does,  the  produc- 
tion of  any  particular  effect  in  a way  that  cannot  be 
rivalled. 

According  to  Mr.  Joseph  Pennell,  the  first  really 
important  modern  illustrated  book  in  which  wood 
was  substituted  for  metal  engraving  appeared  in 
France  in  1830,  and  this  authority  asserts  that  in 
England,  just  before  the  invention  of  photograph- 
ing on  wood,  some  of  the  most  marvellous  engrav- 
ings appeared  that  have  ever  been  done  in  the 
country.  “ It  is,”  he  writes,  “ with  the  appear- 
ance of  Frederick  Sandys,  Rossetti,  Walker,  Pinwell, 
A.  Boyd,  Houghton,  Small,  du  Maurier,  Keene,  Crane, 
Leighton,  Millais,  and  Tenniel,  with  the  publication 
of  the  Corn  hill.  Once  a Week , Good  Words , The  Shilling 
Magazine , and  such  books  as  Moxon’s  Tennyson  that 
the  best  period  of  English  illustration  begins.” 


64 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


“ The  incessant  output  of  illustration,”  he  con- 
tinues, “ killed  not  only  the  artists  themselves,  but 
the  process.  In  its  stead  arose  a better,  truer 
method,  a more  artistic  method,  which  we  are  even 
now  only  developing.” 

But  there  is  another  side  to  this  question.  Illus- 
tration has  lost  something  by  the  uniformity  of 
style  which  the  modern  method  encourages.  Keene, 
whose  style  was  supposed  to  suffer  most  at  the  hands 
of  the  engraver,  found  it  more  difficult  than  anyone 
to  accommodate  his  free  methods  to  the  rules  that 
govern  the  results  of  the  modern  process. 

It  may  be  noted  that  it  was  about  the  time  of  the 
transition  from  working  on  wood  to  work  on  paper 
that  that  slavery  to  the  model  began,  which,  as  we 
have  pointed  out,  has  not  in  the  end  been  without  an 
unhappy  effect  in  the  loss  of  spontaneity  to  English 
Illustration. 

As  for  the  art  of  wood  engraving  itself,  we  hope 
it  will  now  have  a future  like  that  which  the  arts 
of  lithography  and  etching  are  enjoying.  Repro- 
duction by  process  serves  commercial  and  journalistic 
purposes  far  better.  The  demands  of  commerce 
formed  for  this  art,  as  it  once  formed  for  lithography, 
a chrysalis  in  which  it  perfected  itself.  Reproduc- 


Initial  Letter  from  u The  Cornhill  ” 


64 


G>  R.C  !•'.  DU  MAURI ER 


“The  t he  con- 

thc  process.  In  its  stead  ar<  e a r r 

_style  which  the  modern  method  < : ; 

whose  style  was  supposed  to  suffer  m it 

nd  it  mo 

to  acconftifodfltieCl  ©dfJee 

govern  the  results  of  the  modern  process. 

It  may  be  noted  that  it  was  about  the  time  of  the 
transition  from  working  on  wood  to  work  on  paper 
that  that  slavery  to  the  model  began,  which,  as  we 
have  pointed  out,  has  not  in  the  end  teen  without  an 
unhappy  effect  in  the  loss  of  spontaneity  to  English 
Illustration. 

As  for  the  art. of  wood  engraving  itself,  w Wtu 

of  lithography  and  etching  are  enjm  .re- 
duction by  process  serves  commen  1 and 
purposes  far  better.  The  dcru 

. 

- 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER  65 

tion  by  process  serves  commercial  purposes  much 
better  than  ever  wood-engraving  could,  but  while 
the  commercial  demand  for  it  lasted,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  arts  of  lithography  and  etching,  it  continued 
to  improve  ; like  them,  let  us  hope,  destined  to 
find  beautiful  wings  upon  its  release  from  the  cramp- 
ing demands  of  modern  printing  machines,  in  its 
practice  by  artists  for  sheer  love  of  the  peculiar 
qualities  which  are  its  own.  It  has  been  said 
that  wood-engravers  killed  their  own  art  so  far  as. 
journalism  was  concerned  by  their  surrender  to  com- 
merciality  with  its  frequent  demand  for  the  ready- 
to-hand  rather  than  the  superior  thing.  Butt  his 
surrender  was  not  the  fault  of  the  engravers,  but  was. 
rendered  inevitable  by  the  advent  of  the  middleman, 
to  whom  application  was  made  by  the  Press  for 
blocks,  and  whose  employees  all  engravers  were  prac- 
tically forced  into  becoming,  instead  of  being  able 
to  retain  their  independence  and  make  their  own 
terms  with  the  Press. 


§ 7 

In  the  British  Museum  some  of  the  originals 
of  du  Maurier’s  Punch  pictures  may  be  seen. 
On  the  margins  of  these  are  the  pencilled  instruc- 

E 


66 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


tions  of  the  Editor  as  to  the  scale  of  the  reproduction, 
and  very  often  pencil  notes  from  Artist  to  Editor. 
This  sort  of  thing — “ If  they  have  used  my  page 
for  this  week’s  number,  telegraph  to  me  as  soon  as 
you  get  this  and  I will  have  Social  ready  by  12 
to-morrow  (that  is,  if  it  be  not  too  late  for  me.)  ” Or 
what  is  evidently  an  invitation  to  lunch — “ Monday 
at  1 for  light  usual.”  The  drawing  where  this  par- 
ticular note  appears  is  of  three  little  girls  with 
their  dolls.  The  legend  in  the  artist’s  handwrit- 
ing read  as  follows  : — “ My  papa  s house  has  got  a 
conservatory  ! My  papa  s house  has  got  a billiard- 
room  ! My  papa  s house  has  got  a mortgage  ! ! ” This 
was  printed  with  the  much  inferior  legend  : “ Dolly 
taking  her  degrees  (of  comparison)  : c My  doll’s 
wood ! ’ cMy  doll’s  composition  ! ’ c My  doll’s  wax  ! ’ ” 
Some  of  these  British  Museum  original  drawings 
still  retain  in  pencil  the  price  du  Maurier  put  upon 
them  for  sale.  Of  the  period  when  the  artist 
was  drawing  on  a large  scale  with  a view  to  re- 
duction there  is  one  of  the  “ Things  one  would 
rather  have  expressed  differently  ” series  priced  at 
twelve  guineas.  It  gives  an  indication  of  the  profits 
du  Maurier  sometimes  was  able  to  make  from  the 
original  drawing.  For  the  sake  of  comment  on  the 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER  67 

low  evening  gown  the  half-dozen  figures  in  this 
picture  are  all  in  back  view.  It  is  rather  a dull 
twelve-guineas-worth.  And  this  was  evidently  felt, 
as  it  remained  unsold.  The  original  of  the  very 
exquisite  “ Res  angusta  domi,”  the  beautiful  drawing 
of  the  nurse  by  the  child’s  bed  in  the  children’s 
hospital,  which  appeared  in  Punchy  vol.  cviii.  p. 
102  (1894),  is  only  priced  at  “Ten  guineas.” 

Turning  over  the  Museum  drawings  one  often 
sees  the  liberties  with  the  penknife  by  which  the 
artist  would  secure  difficult  effects  of  snow,  or  of 
light  on  foliage.  And  sometimes  in  the  margin 
there  are  pencil  studies  from  which  figures  in  the 
illustration  have  been  re-drawn.  And  nearly  always 
not  altogether  rubbed  out  is  a first  wording  of  the 
legend,  repeated  in  ink  in  du  Maurier’s  pretty 
“ hand  ” beneath. 

In  turning  over  these  drawings  one  finds  him 
doing  much  more  than  merely  suggesting  pattern  work 
in  such  things  as  wall-papers.  There  is  one  floral 
wall-paper  in  particular  that  we  find  him  working 
out  which  will  no  doubt  prove  an  invaluable  reference 
another  day  as  to  the  sort  of  decoration  in  which 
the  subjects  of  Queen  Victoria  preferred  to  live, 
or  were  forced  to  by  their  tradesmen.  Photographs 


68 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


of  du  Maurier’s  studio  which  appeared  in  a Maga- 
zine illustrating  an  interview  with  him  at  the  time 
of  the  “Trilby  ” boom,  reveal  the  squat  china  jars* 
the  leaf  fans,  the  upholstered  “ cosy  corner  ” with 
its  row  of  blue  plates,  with  which  all  who  know 
their  Punch  are  familiar,  and  apparently  the  very 
wall-paper  to  which  we  have  just  referred.  It 
certainly  is  the  mark  of  a great  artist  to  take  prac- 
tically whatever  is  before  him  for  treatment.  The 
artist  with  the  genius  for  “interior”  subjects  seems 
to  be  able  to  re-interpret  ugliness  itself  very  often. 
Du  Maurier’s  weak  eyes  prevented  him  from  bear- 
ing the  strain  of  outdoor  work.  He  was  practically 
driven  indoors  for  his  subjects  ; and  in  taking  what 
was  to  hand — the  very  environment  of  the  kind 
of  people  his  drawings  describe — he  showed  con- 
siderable genius.  He  succeeded  in  making  whole 
volumes  of  Punch  into  a work  of  criticism  on  the 
domestic  art  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

Among  the  useful  skits  of  du  Maurier  was  that 
upon  the  conceited  young  man  concealing  appalling 
ignorance  with  the  display  of  a still  more  appalling 
indifference  to  everything.  The  drawing  among 
the  Print-room  series — “ It  is  always  well  to  be  well 
informed ” — is  a good  instance.  It  reveals  a ball- 


Illustration  for  “ The  Story  of 

1867. 


Feather  ” 


Maurier's  studio  n , : . 

nc  illustrating  an  interview  w 
of  the  c*  Trilby’’  boom,  rev  .* 
the  leaf  fans,  the  upholstere : 
its  row  of  blue  plates,  with  wi< 
tiieir  Punch  are  familiar,  an  : . 

wall-paper  tc  which  we  have  •*; 
c rtainly  is  the  mark  of  a great  art 
tically  whatever  is  before  him  for  trearmo 

” ^dWl  b io  /roi8  orlT  “ txA  nobihlaulll 

" 

ing  the  strain  of  outdoor  work.  He  was  practically 
driven  indoors  for  his  subjects  ; and  in  taking  what 
was  to  nand — the  very  environment  of  the  kind 
of  people  his  drawings  describe — he  showed  con-' 
siderable  genius.  He  succeeded  in  making  whole 
volumes  of  Punch  into  a work  of  criticism  on  the 
domestic  art  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

Among  the  useful  skits  of  do  f.<  ;r  w,i#  that 


....  • . • • • , . 

. 

■ 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER  69 

room  with  couples  dancing  a quadrille.  A lady 
asks  her  partner  : “ Who’s  my  sister’s  partner,  vis-a- 
vis,  with  the  star  and  riband  ? ” He  : “ Oh,  he — 
aw — he’s  Sir  Somebody  Something,  who  went  some- 
where or  othaw  to  look  after  some  scientific  fellaw 
who  was  murdered,  or  something,  by  someone — !” 
The  word  othaw  in  this  legend  is  itself  pictorial. 
Du  Maurier  was  like  our  own  Max  Beerbohm  in 
this — his  legends  and  drawings  were  inseparable. 
We  find  he  has  actually  penned  in  the  side  margin 
of  the  drawing  the  words  “ othaw  fellaw,”  we 
suppose  as  a possible  variant  to  “ scientific  fellow,” 
and  in  the  legend  the  word  “ other  ” has  been 
written  over  with  a thickened  termination — “ aw .” 
The  usual  first  trial  of  the  speech  in  pencil  remains 
but  -partly  obliterated  by  india-rubber  at  the  top  of 
the  drawing. 

In  his  series  of  “Happy  Thoughts”  du  Maurier 
followed  the  course  of  the  sort  of  rapid  thought 
that  precedes  a tactful  reply  with  real  psychological 
skill.  Take,  for  instance,  his  drawing  of  an  artist 
sitting  gloomily  before  his  fire,  caressed  by  his 
wife,  who  bends  over  him,  saying,  “You  seem  de- 
pressed, darling.  Have  you  had  a pleasant  dinner  ? ” 
Edwin  : “ Oh,  pretty  well  ; Bosse  was  in  the  chair, 


7° 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


of  course.  He  praised  everybody’s  work  this  year 
except  mine.”  Angelina  : “ Oh  ! I’m  so  glad.  At 
last  he  is  beginning  to  look  upon  you  as  his  rival 
and  his  only  one.”  The  wings  of  tact  are  sympathy. 
This  drawing  appeared  in  Punchy  vol.  xcvi.  p. 
222  (1889)  ; it  is  signed  with  other  drawings 
from  89  Porchester  Terrace,  April  ’89.  Drawings 
in  the  Museum  collection  are  signed  from  “ Stanhope 
Terrace,”  “Hampstead,”  “ Drumnadrochit,”  or  ap- 
parently from  wherever  the  artist  happened  to  be 
when  executing  the  work. 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


71 


§ 8 

Among  our  illustrations  there  is  a portrait  of 
Canon  Ainger,  representing  the  artist  as  a painter. 
Du  Maurier’s  colour  was  never  such  that  an  injustice 
is  done  to  it  by  reproducing  it  only  by  half-tone 
process.  The  interest  of  this  portrait  is  in  the 
psychological  grasp  of  character  it  seems  to  show. 
The  painter  was  in  the  habit  of  contributing  interior 
genre  scenes  in  water-colour  to  the  Old  Water-colour 
Society,  of  which  he  was  made  an  Associate  in  1 88 1 . 
That  may  be  said  against  his  painting,  which  may  be 
said  against  the  painting  of  so  many  eminent  black- 
and-white  men  who  have  changed  to  the  art  of  paint- 
ing too  late  in  the  day.  It  shows  failure  to  think  in 
paint.  An  artist  is  only  a great  “ black-and-white  ” 
artist  because  he  thinks  in  that  medium.  Possibly, 
if  there  were  no  such  thing  as  a “ black-and-white 
art,  as  we  have  it  in  journalism  to-day,  some  of  the 
greatest  men  in  it  would  instead  have  been  great 
painters.  But  successful  transference  to  the  one  art 
after  unusual  mastery  has  been  acquired  in  the  other 
is  rarely  witnessed.  To  think  in  line,  to  see  the 
world  as  resolving  itself  into  the  play  of  alternating 


72 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


lines,  so  to  habituate  thought  and  vision  to  that 
one  aspect  of  everything  is  not  the  best  preparation 
in  the  world  for  seeing  it  over  again  in  another  art 
where  the  element  of  line  is  not  the  chief  incident 
of  the  impression  to  be  created.  Failure  in  the  one 
art  does  not  mean  failure  as  an  artist.  Those  artists 
who  have  worked  in  a variety  of  mediums  with 
apparently  equal  success  in  each  have  always  attained 
the  ability  to  make  each  medium  in  turn  express  the 
same  personal  feeling.  But  nearly  always  there  is 
in  such  cases  that  sacrifice  of  the  inherent  qualities 
of  one  or  other  of  the  mediums  employed  which  a 
great  virtuoso  never  makes. 

Black-and-white  men  put  themselves  into  an 
attitude  of  receptivity  towards  that  aspect  of  things 
which  suggests  representation  in  line.  Their  ac- 
quired sensitiveness  in  this  respect  is  expressed  in 
the  learned  character  of  their  touch  in  drawing. 
Painters  cultivate  a similarly  receptive  attitude 
towards  nature,  but  lay  themselves  open  to  receive 
a different  impression  of  it.  We  might  say  of  du 
Maurier  that  by  the  time  he  tried  to  apply  himselt 
to  painting  he  had  become  constitutionally  a black- 
and-white  artist.  Moreover,  his  impaired  vision 
compromised  the  more  complex  range  of  effect  re- 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


73 


presented  in  painting  in  a way  that  it  never  could 
the  simplicity  of  good  black-and-white  work.  How 
seriously  threatened  du  Maurier’s  sight  was  at  times 
we  may  know  by  the  reliance  he  put  upon  being 
read  to  by  others.  Thus  only  did  he  manage  to 
keep  his  small  stock  of  visual  energy  in  reserve  for 
his  artistic  work. 


§9 

During  the  sixties  and  seventies  the  artist  illus- 
trated many  works  of  fiction.  The  most  notable 
instance  was  Thackeray’s  Esmond  in  1868 — a work 
which  he  had  long  wished  to  be  chosen  to  illus- 
trate. 

Du  Maurier  had  all  his  life  an  intense  admiration 
for  Thackeray.  He  inherited  none  of  Thackeray’s 
bitterness,  but  upon  every  other  ground  as  an  author, 
at  least,  he  descends  from  Thackeray,  notably  in  the 
studied  colloquialism  of  his  style  when  writing, 
and  in  a general  friendliness  to  the  Philistine.  And 
in  his  drawings  in  Punch  his  satire  is  aimed  in  the 
same  direction  as  Thackeray’s  always  was.  Like 
Thackeray,  he  was  most  at  home  on  the  plane  where 
a social  art,  a delicate  art  of  life  is  able  to  flourish. 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


74 

Of  the  concealed  romanticist  in  du  Maurier  we  have 
more  than  once  already  spoken.  A Romanticist 
always  turns  to  the  past.  Thackeray,  in  his  lectures, 
also  in  the  house  he  built  for  himself,  and  in  a 
proposed  but  never  finished  history,  went  back  into 
the  past  at  least  as  far  as  Queen  Anne’s  reign. 
Esmond , also  of  Queen  Anne’s  reign,  was  the  expres- 
sion of  a feature  of  Thackeray’s  temperament  which 
never  makes  its  full  appearance  in  any  other  of  his 
fictions.  We  believe  that  it  was  his  own  favourite 
among  his  works.  But  Thackeray  did  not  succeed 
in  expressing  the  whole  of  himself  in  the  romantic 
vein  ; perhaps  because  he  did  not  cultivate  it  from 
the  start  like  Scott  and  Dumas.  He  was  able  to  put 
more  of  himself  into  Vanity  Fair.  To  think  of 
Thackeray  is  to  think  first  of  Vanity  Fair . From 
the  unerring — because  instinctive — judgment  of  the 
world  this  book  received  recognition  as  his  master- 
piece. 

Du  Maurier  had  not  so  much  of  the  genuine 
flair  for  the  eighteenth  century  as  Thackeray.  At 
heart  he  was  much  more  in  sympathy  with  the  pre- 
Raphaelites  and  the  love  of  early  romance,  whatever 
his  pretence  to  the  contrary  in  his  satire,  A Legend 
of  Camelot . But  there  was  no  illustrator  of  his  time 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


75 


with  a greater  gift  for  the  romantic  novel  of  any 
period  ; and  inevitably,  he  became,  in  due  course, 
the  illustrator  of  Esmond. 

It  is  impossible  to  return  to  the  past  except 
by  the  path  of  poetry.  It  was  possible  to  du 
Maurier  in  his  illustrations  to  Esmond^  because 
he  was  a poet.  He  used  the  effect  of  fading 
light  in  the  sky  seen  through  old  leaded  windows, 
and  all  the  resources  of  poetic  effect  with  a poet’s 
and  not  an  actor-manager’s  inspiration,  wrapping 
the  tale  in  the  glamour  in  which  Thackeray  con- 
ceived it. 

In  1865  du  Maurier  contributed  a full  page  illus- 
tration and  two  vignettes  to  Foxe’s  Book  of  Martyrs , 
published  in  parts  by  Cassell.  Other  signed  illustra- 
tions are  by  G.  H.  Thomas,  John  Gilbert,  J.  D. 
Watson,  A.  B.  Houghton,  W.  Small,  A.  Parquier, 
R.  Barnes,  M.  E.  Edwards,  and  T.  Morten.  No 
book  can  be  imagined  which  would  afford  the 
essential  nature  of  his  art  less  opportunity  of  show- 
ing itself  than  this  one.  He  was  no  good  at  horrors, 
though  his  resourcefulness  in  the  manifestation  of 
emotional  light  and  shadow  was  encouraged  by  the 
character  of  the  full-page  illustration  which  he  had 
to  supply.  A signed  full  page  appears  in  Part  XVI., 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


76 

page  541.  It  is  a scene  in  which  the  four  martyrs. 
Bland,  Frankesh,  Sheterden,  and  Middleton,  con- 
demned by  the  Bishop  of  Dover,  25th  June  1555, 
are  shown  being  burned  at  the  stakes.  One  of  the 
martyrs  certainly  looks  intensely  smug  with  his 
hands  folded  as  if  he  were  at  grace  before  a favourite 
dinner.  Yes,  du  Maurier  certainly  failed  to  attain 
quite  to  the  heights  of  the  horror  of  this  book. 

The  following  year  we  have  from  the  artist’s 
pencil  illustrations  to  a book  of  the  heroine  of  which 
he  was  so  fond  that  he  named  his  own  daughter 
after  her.  That  book  was  Mrs.  Gaskell’s  Wives  and 
Daughters , “ an  everyday  story,”  as  it  is  called  in 
its  sub-title.  For  this  story  du  Maurier’s  art  was 
much  more  fitted  than  for  any  other.  In  it, 
certainly,  and  not  in  Foxe’s  book,  we  should  expect 
his  temperament  to  reveal  itself — and  we  are  not 
disappointed.  It  is  here  that  du  Maurier  is  at  his 
best.  His  illustrations  have  a daintiness  in  this 
tale  which  they  have  nowhere  else.  A sign  of  the 
presence  of  fine  art  is  the  accommodation  of  style  to 
theme.  The  illustrations  had  been  made  for  this 
book  when  it  appeared  serially  in  the  Cornhill , and 
were  afterwards  published  in  the  issue  in  two 
volumes.  There  is  a picture  at  the  beginning  of 


Illustration  for  “ The  Story  of  a Feather” 


1867. 


7 6 


GEORt  ' D(j  V1AURIER 


' 

i he  following  year'  we  have  Iron,  (M« 

nw  '5  lot  nobirmnlll 

,ok  wa^rs.  Gaskel 

us  stbSle  ^ "T®?  St°ry’”  aS  k is  ca,Ied  *n 
For  th,s  story  do  Manner’s  art  was 

mud  more  fitted  than  for  any  „h„  In  7t 

certamly,  and  not  in  ^ book.  We -should  expec 
his  temperament  to  reveal  itself-and  we  arc  not 
disappomted.  It  is  here  that  du  Maurier  is  at  his 

tT  k u '”USt;atIOns  havc  a daintiness  in  rj„. 
tale,  which  they  have  nowhere  else. 

‘ 

I f , he  ^lustrations  had  been  u , t!m 


r ^ in  iirt;  r*uc 

■’here  is  a picture  t the  K t „ 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


77 


the  second  volume  called  “The  Burning  Gorse,”  in 
which  du  Maurier  makes  an  imaginative  appeal 
through  landscape  almost  worthy  of  Keene. 

The  artist  is  again  at  his  best  in  the  work  of 
illustrating  fiction  in  the  following  year  in  Douglas 
Jerrold’s  Story  of  a Feather.  It  is  the  same  re- 
finement of  technique  that  is  evident  as  in  Mrs. 
Gaskell’s  tale.  One  of  du  Maurier’s  greatest  char- 
acteristics was  charm.  One  is  forced  into  ringing 
changes  upon  the  word  in  the  description  of  his 
work.  But  charm  it  is,  more  than  ever,  that  char- 
acterises his  illustrations  to  Fhe  Story  of  a Feather . 
The  initial  letters  in  this  book  afford  him  a succession 
of  opportunities  for  displaying  that  inventive  genius 
which  is  evident  wherever  he  turns  to  the  province 
of  pure  fancy.  It  was  not  for  nothing  apparently 
that  he  was  the  son  of  an  inventor. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  his  power  in  these 
days  in  the  emotional  use  of  light  and  shade.  It 
is  perhaps  even  in  this  light  book — in  the  illustra- 
tion reproduced  opposite — that  we  have  one  of 
the  best  examples  of  this  power.  But  this  book  is 
all  through  a gold-mine  of  the  work  of  the  real 
du  Maurier. 

Another  work  in  which  his  art  is  to  be  found 


78  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

at  this  time  is  Shirley  Brooks’s  Sooner  or  Later  (1868). 
The  novel  does  not  seem  treated  with  quite  the 
same  reverence  and  enthusiasm  which  has  char- 
acterised his  work  in  the  books  we  have  just 
described,  but  it  is  among  the  representative  ex- 
amples of  his  illustration  in  the  sixties.  This  story 
also  passed  as  a serial  through  CornhilL  In  the 
same  year,  with  E.  H.  Corbould,  he  provides  illus- 
trations to  The  Book  of  Drawing-room  Plays , &c.,  a 
manual  of  indoor  recreation  by  H.  Dalton.  It  is 
not  impossible  that  these  were  prepared  long  in 
advance  of  publication,  for  they  are  in  a very  much 
earlier  manner  than  the  illustrations  we  have  been 
speaking  of.  In  them  du  Maurier  has  not  yet 
emerged  from  the  influence  of  Leech — the  first 
influence  we  encountered  when  a few  years  pre- 
viously he  joined  himself  to  the  band  of  those  who 
solicit  the  publishers  for  illustrative  work.  From 
the  point  of  view  of  our  subject  the  book  does  not 
repay  much  study.  In  1876,  in  illustrations  to 
Hurlock  Chase , or  Among  the  Sussex  Ironworks , by 
George  E.  Sargent,  published  by  The  Religious 
Tract  Society,  we  have  some  pictures  of  extra- 
ordinary power,  in  which  it  is  to  be  seen  how  much 
his  contact  with  Millais  and  other  great  illustrators 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


79 


in  the  sixties  inspired  him,  and  developed  his 
resources.  His  work  has  a “ weight  ” in  this  book 
which  was  common  to  the  best  illustration  of  the 
period,  a deliberation  which  shows  the  influence 
of  Durer  over  the  illustrators  of  the  sixties,  and 
also  the  influence  of  pre-Raphaelitism  in  precise 
elaboration  of  form.  It  is  in  lighter  vein  we  find 
him  again  in  the  same  year  in  Jemmett  Browne’s 
Songs  of  Many  Seasons , published  by  Simpkin, 
Marshall  & Co.,  and  illustrated  also  by  Walter 
Crane  and  others.  Every  now  and  then  at  this 
period  du  Maurier  shows  us  a genius  for  “ still-life  ” 
in  interior  genre  which  he  did  not  seem  to  develop 
afterwards  to  the  extent  of  the  promise  shown  in  these 
pictures.  He  gained  at  this  time  a very  great  deal 
in  his  art  by  the  pre-Raphaelite  influence.  Never 
is  he  more  exquisite  than  when  he  embraces  detail. 
The  need  to  produce  with  rapidity,  and  the  effect 
of  later  fashions  which  did  not  suit  his  own  nature 
so  well,  induced  him  to  give  up  a very  deliberate 
style  suited  to  his  quick  perception  of  beauty  in 
everyday  incident,  for  one  that  sometimes  only 
achieved  emptiness  in  its  attempt  at  breadth.  But 
to  have  kept  his  pre-Raphaelite  individuality  with 
two  such  native  impressionists  as  Keene  and  Whistler 


8o 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


for  his  most  intimate  friends  would  have  perhaps 
been  more  than  could  be  expected  of  human  nature. 
But  it  is  true  that  he  seemed  to  lose  where  those 
two  artists  proved  they  had  everything  to  gain 
from  a style  that  passed  detail  swiftly,  treating  it 
suggestively.  They  were  by  nature  impressionable 
to  a different  aspect  of  life,  and  in  self  expression 
they  required  a different  method. 

Du  Maurier’s  artistic  creed  that  everything 
should  be  drawn  from  nature — and  tables  and 
chairs  are  “nature”  for  the  artist — forced  him  to 
return  again  and  again  to  accessible  properties  which 
could  be  fitted  into  his  scenes.  Notable  among 
those  were  the  big  vases  and  the  constantly  re- 
appearing ornamental  gilt  clock.  Though  drawn 
in  black  and  white  we  are  sure  of  its  gilt,  for  it 
belongs  to  the  Victorian  period.  It  is  to  be  met 
with  in  all  the  surviving  drawing-rooms  of  the 
period — that  is,  it  is  to  be  met  with  in  “ Apart- 
ments.” 

Du  Maurier  next  furnishes  a frontispiece  and 
vignettes,  which  we  do  not  admire,  to  Clement 
Scott’s  Round  about  the  Islands  (1874). 

In  1882  he  is  at  work  in  the  field  he  had  made 
his  own,  illustrating  the  story  of  a fad  that  had 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER 


8 1 


always  amused  him,  illustrating  the  craze  he 
had  helped  to  create,  in  Prudence  : A Story  of 
Aesthetic  London , by  Lucy  C.  Lillie.  We  hope 
the  reader  of  this  page  does  not  think  we  should 
have  read  this  book.  We  looked  at  the  illustrations 
of  a muscular  curate — whom  we  took  to  be  the  hero 
— making  an  impressive  entrance  into  a gathering  of 
“ aesthetes,”  and  farther  on  leaving  the  church  door 
with  “ Prudence  ” ; we  read  the  legend  to  the  final 
illustration — “ It  was  odd  to  see  how  completely 
Prudence  forsook  her  brief  period  of  aesthetic  light  ” 
— and  we  came  to  our  own  conclusions.  The  illus- 
trations are  made  very  small  in  process  of  printing, 
but  du  Maurier’s  art  never  lost  by  reduction.  A 
picture  of  a Private  View  day  in  a Gallery — which 
at  first  makes  one  think  of  the  Royal  Academy,  but 
in  which  the  pictures  are  too  well  hung  for  that, 
and  which  is  probably  intended  for  the  Grosvenor 
Gallery — is  one  of  those  admirable  drawings  of  a 
fashionable  crush  with  which  du  Maurier  always 
excelled.  In  reviewing  this  book,  however,  we  are 
already  away  from  the  most  characteristic  period  of 
du  Maurier’s  work  as  an  illustrator  of  fiction.  That 
was  between  i860  and  1880.  His  line  is  altogether 
less  intense  in  the  next  book  we  have  to  consider — 


F 


82 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


Philips's  As  in  a hooking  Glass  (1889).  The 
falling  off  between  this  and  the  book  we  were 
reviewing  here  but  a moment  ago  is  the  most 
evident  feature  of  the  work  before  us.  We  have, 
we  feel,  said  good-bye  to  the  du  Maurier  who  added 
so  much  lustre  to  the  illustrative  work  of  the  period 
just  preceding  its  publication.  But  in  Punch  the 
vivacity  of  his  art  is  still  sustained  ; and  long 
afterwards  in  Trilby  he  scores  successes  again. 
In  later  years  du  Maurier  allowed  in  his  originals 
for  reduction,  and  the  original  cannot  be  rightly 
judged  until  the  reduction  is  made.  In  the  book 
under  notice  no  reduction  appears  to  have  been  made, 
and  the  drawings  are  consequently  lacking  in  pre- 
cision of  detail.  The  book  is  a large  drawing-room 
table  book — in  our  opinion  the  most  hateful  kind 
of  book  that  was  ever  made — occupying  more  space 
than  any  but  the  rarest  works  in  the  world  are 
worth,  giving  more  trouble  to  hold  than  it  is 
possible  for  any  but  a great  masterpiece  to  com- 
pensate for — and  generally  putting  author  and 
publisher  in  the  debt  of  the  reader,  which  is  quite 
the  wrong  way  round.  The  curious  may  see  in  this 
book  what  du  Maurier’s  art  was  at  its  worst,  and 
it  may  help  them  to  estimate  his  achievement  to 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER  83 

note  how  even  on  this  occasion  it  surpasses  easily 
all  later  modern  work  in  the  same  vein. 

There  is  one  other  book,  published  in  1874, 
which  du  Maurier  illustrated  at  that  time  which 
should  be  mentioned.  It  had,  we  believe,  a great 
success  of  a popular  kind.  We  refer  to  Misunder- 
stood\ by  Florence  Montgomery.  In  the  light  of 
the  illustrations,  which  are  in  the  artist’s  finest  vein, 
one  wonders  how  much  of  this  success  could  with 
justice  have  been  attributed  to  the  illustrations.  We 
are  inclined  to  think  not  a little.  These  pictures 
show  many  of  the  most  interesting  qualities  of  his 
work.  In  the  portrait  of  Sir  Everard  Duncombe, 
Misunderstood’s  father,  we  have  a skill  in  portraying 
a type  that  cannot  have  failed  in  impressing  readers 
with  the  reality  of  the  character.  The  delicacy 
of  du  Maurier’s  psychology  in  this  portrait  of  a 
middle-aged  man  of  the  period  is  in  marked  contrast 
with  the  improbability  of  so  many  of  his  renderings 
of  elderly  people  wherever  he  went  outside  of  his 
stock  types.  It  justifies  his  realism  and  mistrust 
of  memory  drawing.  Through  his  failure  to  sustain 
his  interest  in  life  always  at  this  pitch  his  art  at 
the  end  of  his  career  showed  just  the  lack  of  this 
close  observation  of  character.  It  often  then  seems 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


84 

too  content  to  rest  its  claims  on  accurate  drawing, 
even  when  what  was  drawn  was  not  worth  accuracy. 
And  this  is  the  fault  of  all  the  modern  school. 

Good  drawing  does  not  so  much  interest  us  in 
things  as  in  the  drama  centred  in  them.  Thus 
we  have  actually  such  things  as  horror,  passion, 
gentleness,  and  other  invisible  things  conveyed  to 
us  in  the  lines  of  a drawing.  We  may  indeed 
know  genius  from  talent  by  the  much  more  of 
the  invisible  which  it  transfers  to  visible  line.  Du 
Maurier,  in  drawing  children,  for  instance,  secures 
their  prepossessing  qualities.  Drawing  is  great  when 
it  conveys  something  which  in  itself  has  not  an 
outline  — like  the  “atmosphere”  of  a Victorian 
drawing-room. 


§ 10 

Intensely  artistic  natures  make  everything  very 
self-expressive  without  conscious  intention.  For 
this  reason  an  artist's  handwriting  tends  to  be  more 
worth  looking  at  than  other  people’s.  The  draughts- 
man lavishes  some  of  his  skill  upon  his  handwriting. 
This  more  particularly  applies  to  the  signature, 
which  is  written  with  fuller  consciousness  than  other 


Caution 

“Don't  keep  your  Beer-Barrel  in  the  same  cellar 
as  your  Dust-Bin  ! ” 

Punch , 

February  23,  1867. 


i. FORGE  DU  MAURIER 


to  rest  its  claims  on  accurate  drawing, 
t was  drawn  was  not  wonh  accuracy, 
fault  of  all  the  modem  school. 

’ther  innoiJneD  ,•  . ved  to 

usli-jb  arncf  aril  n'i  Ibrif;'I-r)3H  iuo'(  q3»>l  i noCI  " 

,;">m  -.box 

rawing  <re* 

ng  qualities.  Drawing  is  great  when 
reys  something  which  in  itself  has  not  an 
— like  the  “atmosphere”  of  a Victorian 

§ 10  • 


rensely  artistic  natures  make  everything  ve  r 
expressive  without  conscious  intention,  j 


I 


\ 


THE  ART  OF  DU  MAURIER  85 

words.  Artists,  owing  to  their  intense  interest  in 
“ appearances,”  generally  start  by  being  a little  self- 
conscious  about  their  signature.  But  that  period 
passes,  and  the  autograph  becomes  set,  to  grow 
fragile  with  old  age  and  shrink,  but  not  to  alter 
in  its  real  characteristics.  The  signature  at  the 
foot  of  a picture  presents  a rather  different  problem 
from  the  signature  at  the  foot  of  a letter.  It  must 
necessarily  be  a more  deliberate  and  self-conscious 
affair,  but  it  is  no  less  expressive.  German  delibera- 
tion was  never  so  well  expressed  as  in  Albert  Durer’s 
signature. 

Self-advertisers  always  give  themselves  away  with 
their  signature.  As  a rule,  the  finer  the  artist  the 
more  natural  his  signature  in  style.  And  fine 
artists  like  to  subscribe  to  the  great  tradition  of 
their  craft,  that  the  work  is  everything,  the  work- 
man only  someone  in  the  fair  light  of  its  effect  ; 
the  name  is  added  out  of  pride  but  not  vain-glory, 
with  that  modest  air  with  which  a hero  turns  the 
conversation  from  himself.  Naturalness  and  mastery 
arrive  at  the  same  moment  ; students  cannot  sign 
their  works  naturally.  Du  Maurier’s  signature 
passed  through  many  transformations,  and  there 
were  times,  too,  when  the  artist  was  quite  undecided 


86 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


between  the  plentiful  choice  of  his  Christian  names 
— George  Louis  Palmella  Busson.  An  artist  begin- 
ning his  career  at  the  present  day  with  such  a 
choice  of  names  would  most  certainly  have  made 
use  of  the  “ Palmella  ” in  full — an  advertisement 
asset.  But  advertisement  is  vulgar.  Du  Maurier 
belonged  to  the  Victorians,  who  were  never  vulgar. 


,v» 


Ill 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 

§ 1 

Queen  Victoria  was  the  Queen  of  Hearts  ; her 
reign  was  the  reign  of  sentiment.  The  redundancy 
of  tender  reference  to  Prince  Albert  at  Windsor 
has  been  known  to  bore  visitors  to  the  town. 
Life  must  have  been  tiring  in  those  days,  tossed, 
as  everyone  was,  if  we  believe  the  art  of  the  time, 
from  one  wave  of  sentiment  to  another.  Men  went 
“ into  the  city  ” to  get  a little  rest,  and  there  framed 
this  code  : that  there  should  be  no  sentiment  in 
business. 

So  the  Victorians  put  their  sentiment  into  art, 
into  stories  and  illustrations.  They  put  some  of  the 
best  of  their  black-and-white  art  into  a Magazine 
called  Good  Words . Only  the  Victorians  could  have 
invented  such  a title  for  a Magazine,  or  lived 
up  to  it. 


87 


88 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


The  literary  tradition  of  that  time,  so  far  as 
the  novel  was  concerned,  expired  with  du  Maurier. 
He  came  near  to  having  a style  as  natural  as 
Thackeray’s,  and  he  was  quite  as  sentimental. 

Before  he  began  to  write  novels,  he  prided 
himself  upon  the  fact  that  a store  of  “ plots  ” for 
novels  lay  undeveloped  in  his  mind.  It  was  the 
offer  of  a “ plot  ” to  Mr.  Henry  James  one  evening 
when  they  were  walking  up  and  down  the  High 
Street,  Bayswater,  that  resulted  in  du  Maurier 
becoming  a novelist.  Du  Maurier  told  him  the  plot 
of  Trilby.  “ But  you  ought  to  write  that  story,” 
cried  James.  “ I can’t  write,”  he  replied  ; “ I have 
never  written.  If  you  like  the  plot  so  much  you 
may  take  it.”  Mr.  James  said  that  it  was  too 
valuable  a present  to  take,  and  that  du  Maurier 
must  write  the  story  himself. 

On  reaching  home  that  night  he  set  to  work. 
By  the  next  morning  he  had  written  the  first  two 
numbers  not  of  Trilby  but  of  Peter  Ibbetson.  “ It 
seemed  all  to  flow  from  my  pen,  without  effort  in 
a full  stream,”  he  said,  “ but  I thought  it  must  be 
poor  stuff,  and  I determined  to  look  for  an  omen 
to  learn  whether  any  success  would  attend  this  new 
departure.  So  I walked  out  into  the  garden,  and 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR  89 

the  very  first  thing  that  I saw  was  a large  wheel- 
barrow, and  that  comforted  me  and  reassured  me, 
for,  as  you  will  remember,  there  is  a wheelbarrow 
in  the  first  chapter  of  Peter  Ibbetson 1 

Peter  Ibbetson — “ The  young  man,  lonely,  chival- 
rous and  disquieted  by  a touch  of  genius,”  as  the 
hero  has  been  well  described — was  written  for  money, 
and  brought  its  author  a thousand  pounds. 

Peter  Ibbetson  was  not  put  above  Trilby  in  the 
author’s  lifetime  ; but  we  believe  it  to  have  much 
more  vitality  than  the  latter  work.  The  actual 
writing  of  it  was  not  perhaps  taken  quite  so  seriously 
as  that  of  Trilby , and  it  gains  nothing  on  that 
account  ; but  it  is  a book  in  which  there  is  intensity, 
in  which  everything  is  not  spread  out  thinly  as  in 
Trilby . Du  Maurier  himself  believed  that  Peter 

Ibbetson  was  the  better  book.  It  certainly  witnesses 
to  the  nobility  of  the  author’s  mind  ; it  expresses 
the  quick  sympathy  of  the  artist  temperament — the 
instinct  for  finding  extenuating  circumstances  which 

1 The  circumstances  in  which  du  Maurier  took  up  novel-writing, 
and  the  history  of  the  staging  of  Trilby  in  England  were  related  by 
him  to  Mr.  R.  H.  Sherard  for  an  “Interview"  which  appeared  in 
McClure's  Magazine  1895.  And  I have  referred  to  this  source  for 
the  genealogy  of  the  artist,  as  given  by  himself,  and  particulars  of 
his  early  life. — Author. 


9° 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


artists  share  with  women,  and  which  both  rightly 
regard  as  the  same  thing  as  the  sense  of  justice. 
The  tale  of  Peter  Ibbetson  breathes  a great  human 
sympathy.  The  simplicity  with  which  it  is  written 
adds  to  its  effect.  We  cross  a track  of  horror  in  it 
by  the  ray  of  a generous  light.  It  is  by  this  book 
I like  to  think  that  du  Maurier  will  be  remembered 
as  a writer.  It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  he 
could  touch  a theme  that  in  all  superficial  aspects 
was  sordid  without  the  loss  of  the  bloom  of  true 
romance.  The  real  plot  of  this  story,  however,  does 
not  lie  with  incident,  but  with  the  maintenance  of  an 
elevated  frame  of  mind  in  defiance  of  circumstances. 
The  author  realises  that  mind  triumphs  always  more 
easily  over  matter  than  over  “circumstances.”  To 
the  damage  of  the  plot  he  brings  his  hero  the  utmost 
psychic  assistance  from  an  inadmissible  source,  but 
the  picture  of  the  prisoner’s  soul  prevailing  in  the 
face  of  complete  temporal  disaster  is  still  a true  one. 

Du  Maurier’s  publishers  believed  in  Trilby  from 
the  very  first.  They  began  by  offering  double  the 
Peter  Ibbetson  terms,  while  generously  urging  him  to 
retain  his  rights  in  the  book  by  accepting  a little 
less  in  a lump  sum  and  receiving  a royalty.  But  so 
little  faith  did  he  pin  to  Trilby  that  he  said  “ No  ! ” 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


91 


Within  a few  weeks  the  “ boom  ” began.  And 
when  Harpers’  saw  what  proportions  it  was 
likely  to  assume,  they  voluntarily  destroyed  the 
agreement,  and  arranged  to  allow  him  a handsome 
royalty  on  every  copy  sold.  An  admirer  of  Byron, 
du  Maurier  repudiated  as  cruelly  unfair  the  poet’s 
line,  “ Now  Barabbas  was  a publisher.”  The  pub- 
lisher also  handed  over  to  him  the  dramatic  rights 
with  which  he  had  parted  for  a small  sum  like  fifty 
pounds,  and  thus  he  became  a partner  in  the  dramatic 
property  called  Trilby  as  a “ play.” 


92 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


§ 2 

'Trilby  was  a name  that  had  long  lain  perdu  some- 
where “at  the  back  of  du  Maurier’s  head.”  He 
traced  it  to  a story  by  Charles  Nodier,  in  which 
Trilby  was  a man.  The  name  Trilby  also  appears 
in  a poem  by  Alfred  de  Musset.  And  to  this  name, 
and  to  the  story  of  a woman  which  was  once 
told  to  him,  du  Maurier’s  Trilby  owed  her  birth. 
“ From  the  moment  the  name  occurred  to  me,”  he 
said,  “ I was  struck  with  its  value.  I at  once 
realised  that  it  was  a name  of  great  importance. 
I think  I must  have  felt  as  happy  as  Thackeray 
did  when  the  title  of  Vanity  Fair  suggested  itself 
to  him.” 

Trilby  is  written  with  a daintiness  that  corre- 
sponds with  the  neatness  of  its  illustrations.  It  has 
the  attractiveness  which  du  Maurier  had  such  skill 
in  giving.  But  though  dealing  with  Bohemia,  the 
author  is  conventional  ; that  is,  he  keeps  strictly  to 
the  surface  of  things.  And  every  true  sentiment 
of  the  book  is  spoilt  by  the  quickly  following  laugh 
in  which  the  author  betrays  his  dread  of  being 
thought  to  take  anything  seriously. 


. 

Berkeley  Square,  5 p.M. 

Punch , 

August  24,  1867. 


was  a man.  The  name  ) 

,M.q  j pnraJpft  pbvhoH 

•,  du  Manner's  T/^7^  ovvcJ  her btrtfe* 

>it  t ! f.c  ne/'  he 

that  it  was  a name  of  great  importance, 
nk  I must  have  felt  as  happy  as  Thackeray 
en  the  title  of  Vanity  Fair  suggested  itself 

r'dby  is  written  with  a daintiness  that  corre- 
with  the  neatness  of  its  illustrations.  It  has 
Ctiveness  which  du  Maurier  had  such  skill 

author  fc 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


93 

The  machinery  of  the  plot  is  crude  ; perhaps  this 
reason  as  well  as  the  delicate  one  assigned  made 
Mr.  Henry  James  refuse  it.  But  du  Maurier  had 
a curious  skill  in  revealing  states  of  mind  of  real 
psychological  and  pathological  interest.  The  sudden 
cessation  of  the  power  to  feel  affection,  and  of  the 
ability  to  respond  emotionally  to  nature,  the  curious 
loss  of  bloom  in  mental  faculty  in  the  case  of  Little 
Billee,  in  this  we  have  an  inquiry  into  a by  no 
means  unusual  state  of  mind  carried  out  with  scien- 
tific exactness  to  an  artistic  end.  Mr.  Henry  James 
would  no  doubt  have  preferred  this  phenomenon  as 
the  basis  of  a plot  to  the  proposterous  mesmerism 
which  forms  the  plot  of  Trilby , he  being  one  of  the 
few  who  understand  that  a dramatic  situation  is  a 
mental  experience.  In  Peter  Ibbetson  the  “ dream- 
ing truly  ” — the  illusion  that  becomes  as  great  as 
reality — is  the  phenomenon  the  author  examines. 
“ Dreaming  truly  ” is  like  the  ecstasy  of  the  saints  : 
it  is  the  “ will  to  believe  ” in  the  very  act  of 
willing. 

Du  Maurier  was  spoilt  for  romance  by  his  long 
connection  with  a comic  paper.  It  had  become  a 
habit  with  him  to  be  on  his  guard  against  everything 
that  could  be  travestied.  This  was  the  conventional 


94 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


side  of  du  Maurier  in  evidence,  as  it  is  also  in  that 
other  flaw  in  the  simple  story  of  Trilby — the 
adulation  of  worldly  success.  We  find  him  con- 
stantly writing  in  this  strain  in  the  description  of 
character  : “ He  is  now  one  of  the  greatest  artists 
in  the  world,  and  Europeans  cross  the  Atlantic  to 
consult  him”  ; or  of  another  character  : “ And  now 
that  his  name  is  a household  word  in  two  hemi- 
spheres ” ; and  of  another  : “ Whose  pinnacle  (of  pure 
unadulterated  fame)  is  now  the  highest  of  all,”  &c. 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


95 


§ 3 

In  all  his  books  the  author  shows  some  of  that 
response  to  old-time  associations  which  gives  to 
authors  like  Dumas  and  Scott  their  freedom  from 
things  that  only  belong  to  the  present  moment — 
precisely  the  things,  by  the  way,  which  do  not  last 
beyond  the  present.  The  consciousness  that  the 
experiences  of  life  to  be  valued  are  the  ones  which 
unite  us  to  those  who  preceded  us  in  life,  and 
which  will  in  turn  give  us  a share  in  the  future,  is 
in  the  possession  of  the  Romantic  school.  But  du 
Maurier  seems  to  have  felt  himself  paid  to  be  funny, 
and  to  conceal  his  sense  of  romance  as  Jack  Point 
concealed  his  love-sickness.  His  master,  Thackeray, 
less  than  anyone  apologised  to  his  readers  for  the 
parade  of  his  own  feelings. 

There  is  a note  of  smugness  that  spoils  Trilby  ; in 
fact  Little  Billee,  “ frock-coated,  shirt-collared  within 
an  inch  of  his  life,  duly  scarfed  and  scarf-pinned, 
chimney-pot-hatted,  most  beautifully  trousered,  and 
balmorally  booted,”  is  the  most  insufferable  picture 
of  a hero  of  a romance.  This  person  compromises 
the  effect  of  the  charmingly  haunting  presence  of 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


96 

Trilby  herself,  and  of  the  great-hearted  gentleman 
in  Taffy.  There  is,  moreover,  the  failure  to  convince 
us  of  Little  Billee’s  genius.  We  are  not  assisted  to 
belief  in  the  immortality  of  his  works,  by  the  illus- 
trations of  the  mid-Victorian  upholstery  in  the  midst 
of  which  they  were  manufactured.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  merely  have  a vision  of  the  type  of  art 
which  won  popular  success  a generation  ago, 
encouraged  by  the  Royal  Academy  at  the  expense 
of  something  better,  and  keeping  a large  group 
of  well-dressed  painters  so  much  in  Society,  that, 
like  Little  Billee  himself,  they  actually  grew  tired 
of  the  great  before  the  great  had  time  to  tire  of 
them — “incredible  as  it  may  seem,  and  against 
nature.” 

Du  Maurier  put  portraits  of  his  friends  into 
Trilby , softening  the  outlines,  and  giving  the  touches, 
legitimate  in  a work  of  art,  which  promote  variation. 
He  wrote  impulsively,  and  a spirit  of  generous  re- 
cognition of  the  achievements  of  all  his  friends 
almost  ruined  his  book.  The  “ lived  happy  ever 
afterwards  ” sentiment  follows  up  every  reference  to 
them.  In  the  famous  character  of  “Joe  Sibley” 
(Whistler) — afterwards  altered  to  Antony,  a Swiss, 
and  ruined — a witty,  a debonair  and  careless  genius 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


97 


was  created.  Just  such  an  impression  was  made 
upon  us  by  this  character  as  Whistler’s  own  studied 
butterfly-pose  in  life  seemed  intended  to  make.  It 
was  with  the  greatest  regret  we  missed  the  fascinat- 
ing  figure  from  the  novel  when  published  in  book 
form,  a regret  even  confessed  to  by  Whistler  himself, 
though  he  had  not  been  able  to  refrain  from  dash- 
ing into  print  over  its  publication.  There  was  none 
other  of  the  Bohemians  described  that  so  endeared 
himself  to  us,  or  that  was  so  alive — witnessing  to 
the  degree  to  which  Whistler’s  personality  affected 
those  with  whom  he  was  thrown  in  contact.  Du 
Maurier  represented  a character  in  Sibley  with  the 
defects  of  his  qualities,  to  the  greater  emphasis  of 
the  qualities.  To  attribute  to  a man  the  genius 
to  be  king  of  Bohemia,  and  to  receive  from  everyone 
forgiveness  for  everything,  a cause  de  ses  gentillesses , to 
make  him  witty  also,  and  a most  exquisite  and 
original  artist — this  would  have  been  enough  for 
most  men,  though  it  was  not  enough  for  Whistler. 
Joe  Sibley,  not  Little  Billee,  is  the  real  creation  of 
“ an  artist  ” that  is  in  the  book. 


G 


98 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


§ 4 

When  "Trilby  was  put  on  the  English  stage  a 
girl  to  play  the  heroine’s  part  had  to  be  found.  That 
was  the  first  problem.  And  speaking  of  the  fact 
that  a Trilby  did  appear  almost  immediately,  du 
Maurier  said,  “ There  is  a school  which  believes 
that  wherever  Art  leads  Nature  is  bound  to  follow. 
I ought  to  belong  to  it,  if  there  is.”  A Trilby  was 
heard  of ; more,  du  Maurier  had  often  commented 
upon  the  beauty  of  the  lady  when  she  was  a child 
living  near  him  at  Hampstead  Heath.  He  in- 
quired her  name.  She  was  already  on  the  stage, 
and  showing  promise  as  an  actress.  He  still  felt 
sceptical,  we  are  told,  and  so  a photograph  was 
sent.  He  said,  “ No  acting  will  be  wanted  ; for 
here  is  Trilby.”  Miss  Baird  was  interviewed.  “In 
face  and  manner,”  said  du  Maurier,  telling  the  story 
of  the  interview,  “she  seemed  still  more  Trilby-like 
than  ever  ; but  Mr.  Tree,  who  was  present,  was  on 
thoughts  of  acting-power  intent.  And  when  he 
gravely  announced  that  to  be  an  actress  a woman 
should  not  be  well-born  and  well-bred,  and  that  if 
possible  she  should  have  had  her  home  in  the  wings 


Illustration  for  “ Esmond  ” 


iEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

rilby  was  put  on  th-  ; ■= 

o play  the  heroine’s  part  h i ■>  .• 
problem.  And 

Maurier 

that 

1 ought  to  belong  to  it,  if  there  is.” 

bijoai<!.’i  " lot  doi^ttaulil  unented 

the  beauty  of  the  lady  when  she  was  a child 
near  him  at  Hampstead  Heath.  He  in- 
face and  manner,”  said  du  Maurier,  telling  the  story 
than  ever  ; but  Mr.  Tree,  who  wa*  on 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


99 

or  the  gutter,  I considered  the  matter  settled.  We 
drove  away  in  silence,  and  I,  at  any  rate,  in  gloom. 
For  Miss  Baird,  refined  and  gentle,  and  well-born 
and  well-bred,  was  still  Trilby  for  me,  and  I flatly 
refused  to  see  either  of  the  ladies  whom  Mr.  Tree 
had  in  mind.  Finally,  he  thought  he  would  see 
Miss  Baird  again,  and  with  her  read  over  a scene  or 
two.  He  got  another  cab — returned  there  and  then 
— in  forty-eight  hours  the  engagement  was  made.” 

It  may  be  found  interesting  if  we  revive  here 
a criticism  which  throws  light  on  the  first  reception 
of  the  adaption  of  'Trilby  for  the  stage.  The  play 
was  put  on  before  the  Trilby  boom  had  spent  itself, 
but  critics  would,  from  the  nature  of  their  species, 
be  rather  prejudiced  against,  than  carried  away  in 
favour  of,  anything  which  came  in  with  a “ boom  ” 
that  was  not  of  their  own  making.  There  was  a 
criticism  written  of  the  play  at  the  time  by  Mr. 
Justin  Huntly  Macarthy  which,  quoted,  will  give 
us  the  history  of  the  “ boom.”  It  was  his  good 
fortune  to  be  in  the  United  States  “ when,”  he 
says,  “ the  taste  for  Trilby  became  a passion,  when 
the  passion  grew  into  a mania  and  the  mania 
deepened  into  a madness,”  and  he  noted  that  in 
England  the  play  and  not  the  novel  kindled  the 


IOO 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


passion  ; though  in  the  criticism  of  the  novel, 
classed  as  it  had  been  even  in  this  country  with 
the  work  of  Thackeray,  he  could  only  recall  one 
note  of  dispraise,  <c  so  earnest  and  scornful  that,  in 
its  loneliness,  it  seemed  to  fall  like  the  clatter  of 
a steel  glove  in  a house  of  prayer.”  He  recalled  a 
friend  of  his  goaded  to  ferocity  by  another’s  exuber- 
ance of  rapture  for  some  latter-day  singers,  crying 
out  “ Hang  your  Decadents  ! Humpty-Dumpty  is 
worth  all  they  ever  wrote.”  “ This,”  he  continued, 
“ is  a variety  of  the  mood  which  accepts  Trilby . 
In  Trilby  we  get  back,  as  it  were,  to  Humpty- 
Dumpty — to  its  simplicity  at  least,  if  not  to  its  pitch 
of  art.  The  strong  man  and  the  odd  man  and  the 
boy  man,  brothers  in  Bohemianism,  brothers  in  art, 
brothers  in  love  for  youth  and  beauty  ; the  girl, 
the  fair,  the  kind,  the  for-ever-desirable,  pure  in 
impurity,  and  sacred  even  in  shame  ; the  dingy  evil 
genius  who  gibbers  in  Yiddish  to  the  God  he 
denies  ; the  hopeless,  devoted  musician,  whose  spirit 
in  a previous  existence  answered  to  the  name  of 
Bowes  ; the  mother  who  makes  the  appeal  that  so 
many  parents  have  made  on  behalf  of  their  sons 
to  fair  sinners  since  the  days  when  Duval  the 
elder  interviewed  Marguerite  Gauthier  ; all  this 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


IOI 


company  of  puppets  please  in  their  familiarity, 
their  straightforwardness,  their  undefeated  obvious- 
ness, very  much  as  a game  of  bowls  on  a village 
green  with  decent  rustics,  or  a game  of  romps  in 
a rose-garden  with  laughing  children,  might  please 
after  a supper  with  Nana  or  an  evening  with  the 
Theosophists.” 

This  seems  to  us  to  diagnose  the  case  as  far 
as  the  success  of  the  play  was  concerned.  But  as 
regards  the  book  at  which  it  was  partly  aimed,  it 
is  wide  of  the  mark.  There  is  something  in  a work 
of  fiction  when  it  is  of  sufficient  power  to  make  a 
success  simply  as  fiction  which  cannot  be  carried 
over  the  footlights.  If  we  only  knew  Shakespeare 
through  seeing  him  acted  we  should  rate  him  much 
lower  than  we  do.  The  success  of  Shakespeare  upon 
the  stage  rests  with  certain  qualities  that  can  only 
properly  tell  upon  the  stage.  But  great  as  these 
qualities  are,  in  Shakespeare’s  case  they  far  from 
represent  his  whole  art  ; there  remains  unexpressed 
the  fragance  of  field  and  flower,  the  secrets  of  mood, 
which  do  not  lie  with  facts  that  acting  can  express, 
and  which  float  like  a perfume  between  us  and  the 
pages.  All  this  the  dust  of  stage  carpentry  destroys, 
and  the  unnaturalness  of  lime-light  dispels.  The 


102 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


charm  in  "Trilby  is  overlaid  by  the  obvious,  but 
the  charm  is  there  for  the  reader,  just  as  the 
obviousness  is  there  for  the  stage  when  the  charm 
is  gone  in  the  adaptation.  The  stage  is  the  throne 
of  the  obvious.  It  is  possible  for  art  to  be  obvious 
and  great,  as  the  art  of  Turner  was  in  painting. 
His  art  was  theatrical.  It  is  the  obvious  that  is 
theatrical.  For  that  which  is  theatrical,  as  the  word 
implies,  must  be  spectacular.  Theatricality  before 
everything  else  in  this  world,  in  any  art,  achieves 
wide  and  popular  success,  the  kind  of  success  that 
Turner  achieves  in  the  pictures  for  which  the 
English  public  admire  him. 

Mr.  W.  D.  Howells,  in  an  article  written  just 
after  the  novelist’s  death,  said  : 1 — “ It  was  my  good 
fortune  to  have  the  courage  to  write  to  du  Maurier 
when  Trilby  was  only  half  printed,  and  to  tell  him 
how  much  I liked  the  gay  sad  story.  In  every  way 
it  was  well  that  I did  not  wait  for  the  end,  for  the 
last  third  of  it  seemed  to  me  so  altogether  forced 
in  its  conclusions  that  I could  not  have  offered  my 
praises  with  a whole  heart,  nor  he  accept  them  with 
any  pleasure,  if  the  disgust  with  its  preposterous 

1 English  Society , “Du  Maurier.”  London  : Osgood,  Mcllvaine 
and  Co.  Introduction  : W.  D.  Howells. 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


lo3 

popularity,  which  he  so  frankly,  so  humorously  ex- 
pressed, had  then  begun  in  him.” 

The  American  critic  describes  the  fact  of  du 
Maurier  commencing  novelist  at  sixty  and  succeed- 
ing, as  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  things  in  the 
history  of  literature,  and  without  parallel.  Perhaps 
the  parallel  has  been  shown  in  the  case  of  Mr.  de 
Morgan.  Mr.  Howells  also  speaks  of  du  Maurier 
perfecting  an  attitude  recognisable  in  Fielding, 
Sterne,  Heine,  and  Thackeray — the  confidential  one. 
Du  Maurier’s  'Trilby  was  a confidence.  But  he  adds, 
“ It  wants  the  last  respect  for  the  reader’s  intelli- 
gence— it  wants  whatever  is  the  very  greatest  thing 
in  the  very  greatest  novelists — the  thing  that  con- 
vinces in  Hawthorne,  George  Eliot,  Tourgenief, 
Tolstoy.  But  short  of  this  supreme  truth,  it  has 
every  grace,  every  beauty,  every  charm.”  The 
word  “ Every  ” here  seems  to  us  an  American  exag- 
geration. We  should  ask  ourselves  whether  in  spite 
of  all  its  confidentialness  Trilby  makes  an  intimate 
revelation.  The  rare  quality  of  intimacy,  that  is 
the  greatest  thing  in  the  very  greatest  novels. 

The  “ boom  ” of  Trilby , we  are  told,  surprised 
du  Maurier  immensely,  for  he  had  not  taken  himself 
au  serieux  as  a novelist.  Indeed  it  rather  distressed 


/ 


io4  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

him  when  he  reflected  that  Thackeray  never  had 
a “ boom.” 


Unpublished  drawing from  sketch-book 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR  105 


§5 

Although  du  Maurier  had  said  that  his  head 
was  full  of  plots  the  supply  seemed  to  have  run  thin 
by  the  time  he  set  to  work  on  The  Martian . The 
value  of  this  book  rests  with  its  autobiographical 
character.  The  knot  is  not  tied  in  the  first  half  and 
unravelled  in  the  second,  after  the  approved  manner 
in  which  plots  should  be  woven.  The  story  is 
chiefly  a record  of  people  and  places,  vivid,  and 
written  in  a breathless,  chatty  style.  It  somewhat 
resembles  the  conversation  of  a boy  on  returning 
from  his  holidays.  It  reveals  a perfectly  amazing 
resource  in  imparting  life  to  mere  description.  As 
a writer,  du  Maurier  seemed  immediately  to  acquire 
a style  unlike  that  of  anyone  else.  Everything  is 
described  with  a zest  that  carries  the  reader  along, 
and  this  manner  is  even  extended  to  things  that  are 
not  worth  describing.  But  he  was  always  slightly 
apologetic  with  pen  in  hand,  never  permitting  him- 
self the  professional  air,  or  giving  a full  challenge 
to  criticism  by  disclaiming  the  privileges  of  a dis- 
tinguished amateur. 

In  Peter  Ibbetson  the  artist  told  the  story  of  his 


106  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

childhood  ; in  Trilby  he  recounted  the  brightest  period 
of  his  Bohemian  youth  ; in  The  Martian  he  records 
the  nature  of  the  shock  he  received  from  threatened 
blindness,  and  the  depression  of  days  before  his  genius 
had  discovered  itself  and  revealed  the  prospect  of  a 
great  career  to  him.  The  effect  of  Pentonville,  the 
grey  suburb,  and  of  the  absence  of  worthy  com- 
panions upon  a romantic,  highly-strung  young  man 
in  Peter  Ibbetson  is  quite  autobiographical,  as  is  the 
description  of  student  life  in  Paris  by  which  after- 
wards the  uninspiring  environment  is  replaced. 
The  continuation  of  the  studentship  at  Antwerp, 
the  consultation  with  the  specialist  at  Dusseldorf, 
completes  the  story  of  du  Maurier’s  life  until  he 
came  to  London.  There  is  literally  nothing  that  a 
biographer  could  add  to  it.  And  du  Maurier  wrote 
his  autobiography  thus,  in  tales,  which  are  histories 
too,  in  their  graphic  description  of  the  aspect  of 
places  and  people  at  a given  time.  Up  to  the  day 
when  the  artist  came  to  London  to  seek  employment 
from  the  publishers  he  seems  to  have  had  dishearten- 
ing times.  In  the  last  years  of  his  life,  when  he 
went  over  the  ground  of  these  early  experiences  in 
his  books,  it  was,  as  is  evident  from  the  style,  in 
the  mood  of  one  who  had  survived  danger  by  flood 


Illustration  for  “The  Adventur 
Richmond  ” 


The  Cornhill , 
1870. 


!oo  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

hi  [hood  ; in  Trilby  he  recounted  the  m period 
Bohemian  youth  ; in  The  n.  records 
the  nature  of  the  shock  he  receive.  : t rc  at  coed 

blindness,  and  the  depression  of  da  genius 

had  discovered  itself  and  revealed  t)  of  a 

great  career  to  him.  The  effect  tht 

grey  suburb,  and  of  the  absence  m- 

p/i  pon  a romantic,  highly-strung  v ouag  (MV 

Ibbetson  is  quite  autobiograp  the 

H ¥ou  ^„rnnVI/A:  &T  » Wt  ftoil/nt.nlll 
,,  briorrirl'ji  H 

<,  rinuation  o th<  so;flen  ship  at  intwerp, 

/ - tli  . ^st  at  Dusseldorf, 

eces  the  story  of  du  -Miner’s  life  until  he 
ne  to  London.  There  is  literally  nothing  that  a 
bic  rapher  could  add  to  it.  And  du  Maurier  wrote 
h autobiography  thus,  in  tales,  which  are  histories 
too,  in  their  graphic  description  of  the  aspect  of 
pla  cs  and  people  at  a given  time.  Up  to  the  day 
when  the  artist  came  to  London  to  seek  empk  vent 
ro  t the  publishers  he  seems  to  have  1 n- 

im  n Ties.  In  the  last  years  of  • he 

his  b->  ‘a as,  as  is  evident  trorn  the  style,  in 

he  mood  of  one  who  had  survived  d fcf  ood 


- . the 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR  107 

and  field  to  recount  his  tales  in  an  atmosphere  of 
peace  he  had  hardly  hoped  to  realise. 

It  is  evident  from  his  books  that  he  had  many 
inward  experiences  of  a dramatic  kind  ; that  his 
life  was  only  uneventful  upon  the  surface,  and  in 
appearance.  In  each  of  his  novels,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  rather  crude  machinery  of  his  plot  secures 
the  revelation  of  a curious,  but  a not  at  all  uncom- 
mon state  of  mind.  He  experimented  empirically 
in  psychology,  interesting  himself  in  the  processes  of 
his  own  mind.  No  one  can  doubt  that  in  more 
than  in  outward  incident  his  novels  were  auto- 
biographical ; that  also  he  drew  upon  the  resources 
of  his  personal  history  for  some  of  the  less  usual 
and  partly  religious  frames  of  mind  in  which  his 
u Heroes,”  each  in  his  own  way,  outwit  the  appar- 
ently ugly  intentions  of  destiny  towards  themselves. 


§6 

Du  Maurier’s  literary  contributions  to  Punch 
were  bound  up  in  the  volume  A Legend  of  Camelot , 
&c.9  issued  from  the  Punch  office  in  1898.  Besides 
the  title-piece,  a satire  of  some  length  upon  the 
medievalism  of  the  pre-Raphaelites,  the  book  con- 


io8 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


tains  shorter  pieces — “ Flirts  in  Hades,”  “ Poor 
Pussy’s  Nightmare,”  “ The  Fool’s  Paradise,  or  Love 
and  Life,”  “ A Lost  Illusion,”  “ Vers  Nonsensiques,” 
“ L’Onglay  a Parry,”  “Two  Thrones,”  “A  Love- 
Agony,”  “A  Simple  Story,”  “ A Ballad  of  Blunders  ” 
(after  Swinburne’s  “ Ballad  of  Burdens”),  and  then  a 
story  in  prose,  “ The  Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Jack 
Spratts  : A tale  of  Modern  Art  and  Fashion.”  All 
the  poetry  is  in  the  ballad  strain,  and  by  its  monotony 
the  reader  is  put  into  the  right  condition  to  receive 
a shock  from  some  felicitous  twist  at  the  end  of 
a line.  Thus  it  is  almost  impossible  to  quote  from 
them.  The  humour  rests  in  each  case  with  the 
whole  of  the  skit  ; and  in  the  case  of  one  of  the 
best  of  the  whole  series,  “ A Love-Agony,”  a poem 
for  a picture  by  Maudle,  given,  there  must  be 
understanding  on  the  reader’s  part,  of  the  art  “ cult  ” 
against  which  it  is  directed. 

“The  Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Jack  Spratts”  is  du 
Maurier’s  first  attempt  at  a work  of  fiction.  It  is 
significant  that  in  style  it  has  the  lightness  of  touch 
that  would  be  expected  from  the  disciple  of 
Thackeray,  and  that  afterwards  won  by  its  “ taking  ” 
character  the  hearts  of  the  readers  of  Trilby.  It 
is  the  story  of  a painter,  his  wife  and  their  twin 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


109 

children.  It  opens  with  a picture  of  them  at  home. 
Jack  Spratt  dreaming,  even  in  those  days,  of  Post- 
Impressionism,  showing  that  du  Maurier  was  a 
prophet,  “dreaming  of  the  ante-pre-Raphaelite 
school.  In  the  depths  of  his  bliss  a feeling  of  dis- 
couragement would  steal  over  him  as  he  thought  of 
those  immortal  works,  showing  thereby  that  he  was 
a true  artist,  ever  striving  after  the  light.  He  little 
dreamt  in  his  modesty  that,  young  and  inexperienced 
though  he  might  be,  his  pictures  were  even  quainter 
than  theirs  ; for  not  only  could  he  already  draw, 
colour,  compose,  and  put  into  perspective  quite  as 
badly  as  they  did,  but  he  had  over  them  the  ad- 
vantage of  a real  lay  figure  to  copy,  whereas  they 
had  to  content  themselves  with  the  living  model.” 
“The  amusements  of  this  happy  pair  were  the 
simplest,  healthiest,  and  most  delightful  kind  ; they 
never  went  to  the  play,  nor  to  balls  or  dances,  which 
they  thought  immodest  — (indeed  they  were  not 
even  asked) — nor  read  such  things  as  novels,  maga- 
zines, or  the  newspaper  ; nor  visited  exhibitions  of 
modern  art,  which  they  held  in  contempt,  as  they 
did  all  things  modern  ; . . . and  they  were  devoted 
to  music,  not  that  of  the  present  day,  which  they 
despised,  nor  that  of  the  future,  of  which  they  had 


I IO 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


never  heard  ; nor  English  music,  which  was  not  old 
enough.”  Of  their  friends,  “ They  were  few,  but 
true  and  trusty,  with  remarkably  fine  heads  for  a 
painter  . . . their  deportment  grave,  sad  and  very 
strange  ; for  the  death  of  the  early  Italian  masters 
still  weighed  on  their  soul  with  all  the  force  of  some 
recent  domestic  bereavement.  They  looked  on 
themselves  and  each  other  and  the  Jack  Spratts, 
and  were  looked  upon  by  the  Jack  Spratts  in  return 
as  the  sole  incarnation  on  this  degenerate  earth  of 
all  such  as  had  still  managed  to  survive  there  ; and 
so  they  were  always  telling  each  other  and  everyone 
else  they  met.  And  no  wonder,  for  they  were 
marvellously  accomplished  ; being  each  of  them 
painter,  sculptor,  architect,  poet,  critic  and  engraver, 
all  in  one  ; and  all  this  without  ever  having 
learnt.  . . 

“ In  their  hours  of  sickness  alone  the  Spratts 
were  as  other  people,  and  sent  immediately  for  the 
nearest  medical  practitioner  (or  leech,  as  they  pre- 
ferred to  call  him)  ; their  only  sickness  to  speak  of 
had  arisen  from  once  feasting  medievally  on  an  old 
roast  peacock,  in  company  with  the  trusty  friends, 
who  had  also  been  taken  very  bad  on  that  occasion  ; 
and  they  ever  afterwards  avoided  that  dish,  but  at 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


1 1 1 


their  banquets  would  have  the  peacock’s  head  and 
what  was  left  of  its  tail  tacked  on  to  some  more 
digestible  bird.  . . 

“ As  staunch  Radicals,  they  hated  the  aristocracy, 
whose  very  existence  they  ignored  ; shunned  the 
professional  class,  which  they  scorned,  on  account 
of  its  scientific  and  utilitarian  tendency  ; and  loathed 
the  middle  class,  from  which  they  had  sprung, 
because  it  was  Philistine  ; and  although  they  pro- 
fessed to  deeply  honour  the  working  man,  they  very 
wisely  managed  to  see  as  little  of  him  as  they  possibly 
could.” 

Owing  to  the  sudden  success  of  a picture — 
which  scandalised  his  trusty  friends — and  the  beauty 
of  his  wife,  the  model  for  the  picture,  Jack  woke 
up  one  morning  and  found  himself  famous.  They 
were  lionised.  Mrs.  Spratt’s  deep-rooted  dislike  to 
the  female  dress  of  the  present  day  did  not  last 
much  longer  than  her  life-long  prejudice  against 
the  aristocracy  ; she  discarded  the  mediaeval  garments 
she  had  hitherto  worn  with  such  disdain  for  the 
eccentricities  of  modern  fashion,  and  put  herself  into 
the  hands  of  the  best  dressmaker  in  town.  And 
thus  snubbing,  and  being  snubbed,  dressing  and 
dancing  and  feasting  and  flirting,  did  she  soar  higher 


I 12 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


and  higher  in  her  butterfly  career.  The  denoue- 
ment comes  when  they  are  cut  out  by  “Ye  rising 
Minnows  ” — an  American  sculptor — one  Pygmalion 
F.  Minnow — whose  wife  was  twice  as  beautiful  as 
Mrs.  Spratt. 

Another  shorter  prose  skit  of  du  Maurier’s  which 
is  included  in  the  same  book  satirises  the  splendid 
sort  of  hero,  who  conceals  beneath  a mask  of  in- 
difference the  power  to  do  anything  on  earth  better 
than  anybody  else. 

These  prose  skits  show  the  neat  irony  that 
Punch  was  willing  to  encourage  by  attaching  du 
Maurier  to  the  literary,  as  well  as  to  the  artistic, 
staff.  But  we  think  it  may  be  said  that  du  Maurier 
hadn’t  the  heart  to  go  on  with  a class  of  writing 
in  which  his  great  tendency  to  sentimentalise  would 
have  been  out  of  place. 

§ 7 

In  1890  du  Maurier  contributed  two  papers  to 
the  Art  Journal  entitled  “The  Illustrating  of  Books 
from  the  Serious  Artist’s  Point  of  View.”  It  was  an 
attempt  to  write  down  the  ideas  that  had  controlled 
him  in  book  illustration.  The  artist  begins  the 
article  by  protesting  that  of  all  subjects  in  the  world 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


IJ3 

it  is  the  one  upon  which  he  has  the  least  and  fewest 
ideas,  and  that  such  ideas  as  he  has  consist  princi- 
pally of  his  admiration  for  illustrations  by  others. 
He  separates  readers  into  two  classes — those  who 
visualise  what  they  read  with  the  mind’s  eye  so 
satisfactorily  that  they  want  the  help  of  no  pictures, 
and  those — the  greater  number,  he  thinks — who  do 
not  possess  this  gift,  to  whom  to  have  the  author’s 
conceptions  embodied  for  them  in  a concrete  form 
is  a boon.  The  little  figures  in  the  picture  are  a 
mild  substitute  for  the  actors  at  the  footlights.  The 
arrested  gesture,  the  expression  of  face,  the  character 
and  costume,  may  be  as  true  to  nature  and  life  as 
the  best  actor  can  make  them.  His  test  of  a good 
illustrator  is  that  the  illustrations  continue  to  haunt 
the  memory  when  the  letterpress  is  forgotten.  He 
cites  Menzel  as  the  highest  example  of  such  per- 
formance. He  next  refers  to  the  illustrated  volume 
of  Poems  by  Tennyson  in  i860,  for  which  Millais 
and  Rossetti  and  others  designed  small  woodcuts,  the 
publishing  of  which,  he  says,  made  an  epoch  in 
English  book  illustration,  importing  a new  element 
to  which  he  finds  it  difficult  to  give  a name. 
“ I still  adore,”  he  says,  “ the  lovely,  wild,  irre- 
sponsible moon-face  of  Oriana,  with  a gigantic 

H 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


1 14 

mailed  archer  kneeling  at  her  feet  in  the  yew-wood, 
and  stringing  his  fatal  bow  ; the  strange  beautiful 
figure  of  the  Lady  of  Shalott,  when  the  curse  comes 
over  her,  and  her  splendid  hair  is  floating  wide,  like 
the  magic  web ; the  warm  embrace  of  Amy  and  her 
cousin  (when  their  spirits  rushed  together  at  the 
touching  of  the  lips),  and  the  dear  little  symmetrical 
wavelets  beyond  ; the  queen  sucking  the  poison  out 
of  her  husband’s  arm  ; the  exquisite  bride  at  the  end 
of  the  Talking  Oak  ; the  sweet  little  picture  of 
Emma  Morland  and  Edward  Grey,  so  natural  and 
so  modern,  with  the  trousers  treated  in  quite  the 
proper  spirit  ; the  chaste  Sir  Galahad,  slaking  his 
thirst  with  holy  water,  amid  all  the  mystic  surround- 
ings ; and  the  delightfully  incomprehensible  pictures 
to  the  Palace  of  Art,  that  gave  one  a weird  sense 
of  comfort,  like  the  word  ‘ Mesopotamia,’  without 
one’s  knowing  why.” 

In  the  second  paper  he  makes  interesting  reflec- 
tions on  Thackeray  and  Dickens.  “ When  the  honour 
devolved  upon  me  of  illustrating  Esmond”  he  writes, 
“what  would  I not  have  given  to  possess  sketches, 
however  slight,  of  Thackeray’s  own  from  which 
to  inspire  myself — since  he  was  no  longer  alive 
to  consult.  For  although  he  does  not,  any  more 


Illustration  for  “The  Adventures  of  Harry 
Richmond  ” 


The  Cornhilly 
1871. 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

; ling  at  her  feet  n t e . ew-wood, 
fatal  bow  ; th<  • beautiful 

Lady  of  Shalott,  wb  c e comes 

id  her  splendid  hair  like 

vgic  web;  the  warm  embrace  < id  her 

(when  their  spirits  rushed  •'  the 

ling  of  the  lips),  and  the  dear  etrical 

nd  ; the  q\  : :>n  out 

her  husband’s  arm  ; the  exquisite  i rhe  end 

vriuH  io  ^TuirisvbA  id  I JJ  ? pi  noiiiritaiijll 

Emma  Morland  and  EdWhnirfifci^I  so  natural  and 
ith  the  ^rs^jr^ted  in  quite  the 
r spirit  ; the  chaste'  Siij-^alahad,  slaking  his 
r$*  ! ith  holy  water,  amid  all  the  mystic  surround- 
s ; and  the  delightfully  incomprehensible  pictures 
e Palace  of  Art,  at  gave  o*mj  a weird  sense 
of  comfort,  like  the  word  c Mesopotamia,’  without 

In  the  second  paper  he  makes  interesting  reflec- 
tions on  Thackeray  and  Dickens.  u When  the  hon<  • ir 
o . ec  upon  me  of  illustrating  Esmond,  ' be  write*, 

what  wbuld  I not  have  given  ta  ! / . 

' 

; i e ’ f- -sine e h e vv  a 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


“5 

than  Dickens,  very  minutely  describe  the  outer  aspect 
of  his  people,  he  visualised  them  very  accurately,  as 
these  sketches  prove.” 

“ I doubt  if  Dickens  did,  especially  his  women — 
his  pretty  women — Mrs.  Dombey,  Florence,  Dora, 
Agnes,  Ruth  Pinch,  Kate  Nickleby,  little  Emily — 
we  know  them  all  through  Hablot  Browne  alone — 
and  none  of  them  present  any  very  marked  physical 
characteristics.  They  are  sweet  and  graceful,  neither 
tall  nor  short  ; they  have  a pretty  droop  in  their 
shoulders,  and  are  very  ladylike  ; sometimes  they 
wear  ringlets,  sometimes  not,  and  each  would  do 
very  easily  for  the  other.” 

In  1868  Messrs.  Harper  published  in  book  form 
under  the  title  Social  Pictorial  Satire  a series  of 
articles  which  du  Maurier  had  written  in  Harper  s 
Magazine , and  which  had  originally  formed  the 
substance  of  lectures  which  he  had  delivered  in  the 
prominent  towns  of  England.  He  speaks  first  of 
his  great  admiration  of  Leech  in  his  youth.  “To 
be  an  apparently  hopeless  invalid  at  Christmas-time 
in  some  dreary,  deserted,  dismal  little  Flemish  town, 
and  to  receive  Punch's  Almanac  (for  1858,  let  us 
say)  from  some  good-natured  friend  in  England — 
that  is  a thing  not  to  be  forgotten  ! I little  dreamed 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


1 16 

that  I should  come  to  London  again,  and  meet  John 
Leech  and  become  his  friend  ; that  I should  be, 
alas  ! the  last  man  to  shake  hands  with  him  before 
his  death  (as  I believe  I was),  and  find  myself  among 
the  officially  invited  mourners  by  his  grave  ; and, 
finally,  that  I should  inherit,  and  fill  for  so  many 
years  (however  indifferently),  that  half-page  in  Punch 
opposite  the  political  cartoon,  and  which  I had  loved 
so  well  when  he  was  the  artist  ! ” Du  Maurier 
draws  a pleasant  portrait  of  his  friend,  sympathetic- 
ally, and  very  picturesquely  analyses  his  art,  which 
has,  he  says,  the  quality  of  inevitableness.  Of 
“Words  set  to  Pictures”  his  long  description  of 
Leech’s  pretty  woman  is  as  good  as  anything  that 
can  be  read  of  the  kind.  Then  he  sketches  the 
characteristics  of  Charles  Keene’s  personality  and 
passes  on  to  his  art  : — “ From  the  pencil  of  this 
most  lovable  man,  with  his  unrivalled  power  of 
expressing  all  he  saw  and  thought,  I cannot  recall 
many  lovable  characters  of  either  sex  or  of  any  age.” 
But  the  tribute  to  the  craftsmanship,  the  skill, 
the  ease  and  beauty  of  Keene’s  line,  to  his  knowledge 
of  effect,  to  the  very  great  artist  is  unmeasured.  In 
fulfilment  of  his  contract  du  Maurier  speaks  of  him- 
self and  his  “ little  bit  of  paper,  a steel  pen,  and 


DU  MAURIER  AS  AUTHOR 


1 l7 

a bottle  of  ink — and,  alas  ! fingers  and  an  eye  less 
skilled  than  they  would  have  been  if  I had  gone 
straight  to  a school  of  art  instead  of  a laboratory 
for  chemistry  ! ” He  says  very  little  about  himself. 
He  concludes  with  a review  of  social  pictorial  satire 
considered  as  a fine  art.  It  is  evident  from  the 
lecture  that  du  Maurier  was  an  illustrator  by  instinct 
as  well  as  training.  “Now  conceive,”  says  he, 
speaking  of  Thackeray,  “ that  the  marvellous  gift 
of  expression  that  he  was  to  possess  in  words  had 
been  changed  by  some  fairy  at  his  birth  into  an 
equal  gift  of  expression  by  means  of  the  pencil,  and 
that  he  had  cultivated  the  gift  as  assiduously  as  he 
cultivated  the  other,  and,  finally,  that  he  had  exer- 
cised it  as  seriously  through  life,  bestowing  on 
innumerable  little  pictures  in  black  and  white  all 
the  art  and  wisdom,  the  wide  culture,  the  deep 
knowledge  of  the  world  and  of  the  human  heart, 
all  the  satire,  the  tenderness,  the  drollery,  and  last, 
but  not  least,  that  incomparable  perfection  of  style 
that  we  find  in  all  or  most  that  he  has  written — 
what  a pictorial  record  that  would  be  ! ” 

“ The  career  of  the  future  social  pictorial  satirist 
is,”  he  continues,  “ full  of  splendid  possibilities  un- 
dreamed of  yet.  . . . The  number  of  youths  who 


1 1 8 GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

can  draw  beautifully  is  quite  appalling.  All  we 
want  for  my  little  dream  to  be  realised  is  that, 
among  these  precocious  wielders  of  the  pencil,  there 
should  arise  here  a Dickens,  there  a Thackeray, 
there  a George  Eliot  or  an  Anthony  Trollope.  . . .” 
Does  not  this  precisely  sum  the  situation  up  ? 
Du  Maurier  could  not  live  to  foresee  that,  for  all 
the  expert  skill  of  modern  illustration,  the  “ youths 
who  can  draw  beautifully  ” lack  “ a point  of  view.” 
It  was  the  possession  of  this  that  distinguished 
Thackeray,  George  Eliot,  Trollope,  Leech,  and 
du  Maurier. 


IV 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 

§1 

To  write  of  the  work  of  an  artist  who  is  not  a 
contemporary  without  reference  to  the  circumstances 
of  his  life  would  be  an  incomplete  performance, 
and  yet  criticism  and  biography  are  hardly  ever 
happily  fused.  The  gifts  of  a biographer  are  of  a 
kind  very  dissimilar  to  those  employed  in  criticism. 
The  true  biographer  loves  uncritically  every  detail 
that  has  to  do  with  his  subject,  as  a portrait-painter 
loves  every  detail  that  has  to  do  with  the  appearance 
of  his  sitter.  The  best  portraits,  whether  in  bio- 
graphy— which  is  nothing  if  it  is  not  portraiture — 
or  in  painting,  are  those  in  which  the  interpreter  has 
been  in  a wholly  receptive  mood.  This  is  not  the 
critical  attitude,  which  involuntarily  takes  arms 
against  first  one  thing  and  then  another  in  the 
subject  before  it ; and  this  sensitiveness  is  in  pro- 
portion to  the  critic’s  interest  in  his  subject. 

119 


120 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


Du  Maurier  told  us  the  story  of  himself  com- 
pletely in  his  novels.  It  was  said  of  de  Quincey 
that  in  his  writings  he  could  tell  the  story  of  his 
own  life  and  no  other.  This  might  be  said  of  du 
Maurier  too. 

The  story  of  his  childhood,  as  we  read  it  through 
his  books,  gives  us  the  picture  of  an  extremely 
sensitive  and  romantic  child  possessed  of  a great 
power  of  responding  affectionately  to  the  scenes  in 
which  he  grew  up,  as  well  as  to  the  people  who 
surrounded  him.  It  is  this  sentiment  for  place  as 
well  as  for  people  that  sometimes  gives  us  in  his 
books  a remarkable  poetic  strain — a strain  like  music 
in  its  caressing  revival  of  old  associations.  And  we 
really  get  a very  accurate  idea  of  the  inward  story 
of  the  artist  when  we  contrast  this  temperamental 
sensitiveness  with  the  kind  of  work  upon  which  he 
employed  his  skill  during  the  chief  part  of  his  career. 

Everywhere  in  du  Maurier’s  life  we  find  the 
testimony  to  his  sweetness  of  disposition.  He  had 
the  great  loyalty  to  friends  which  is  really  loyalty 
to  the  world  at  large,  made  up  of  possible  friends. 
Friends  are  not  an  accident,  but  they  are  made  by 
a process  of  natural  selection,  which,  if  we  are  wise 
and  generous,  we  do  not  attempt  to  superintend. 


Proxy 

As  you’re  going  to  say  your  Prayers,  Maud,  please  mention  I’m 
so  dreadfully  tired  I can't  say  mine  to-night,  but  I’ll  be  sure 
to  remember  to-morrow  ! ” 


Punch's  Almanack , 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


u Maurier  told  i the  torv  f ?<  If  eom- 
ovels.  It  was  said  e Quincey 

This  mi  h nd  f du 

ry  of  his  childhood,  as  vve  f nigh 

romantic  chi^io^b*  . ot  ja  ^reat 

i *,  w.  - m 

/,  o.i  in  i.Ki  .trtsiii-f’j 

" ! wonopi-bl  p) 

i its  caressing  revival  of  old  associations.  And  we 
■ get  a very  accurate  idea  of  the  inward  story 
artist  when  we  contrast  this  temperamental 
dtiveness  with  the  kind  of  work  upon  which  he 

e chief  part  of  \ 

aony  to  his  sweetness  of  disposition.  He  had 
at  large,  made  i e fc  .ends. 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


I 2 I 


Du  Maurier  was  optimistic,  he  had  the  genius  for 
keeping  tragedy  at  bay  ; for  enduring,  for  instance, 
such  a dark  cloud  constantly  threatening  as  blindness 
without  claiming  pity.  It  is  easy  for  such  people 
to  impart  charm  in  whatever  art  they  practise. 
And  it  is  not  true,  as  modern  novelists  and  play- 
wrights seem  to  imagine,  that  “ depth  ” always 
implies  what  is  sinister,  and  that  only  the  surface 
of  life  is  charming.  Let  us  once  again  believe  in 
fragrance  in  art.  Summer  is  as  great  as  winter. 
Within  a sweet-smelling  blossom  is  the  whole  pro- 
found history  of  a tree  struggling  to  survive  the 
vengeance  of  frost  and  gales.  It  is  the  fragrant 
things  of  life  that  contain  all  that  has  been  conserved 
through  unkind  weather. 

One  of  the  chief  influences  in  du  Maurier’s  life 
was  his  admiration  of  Thackeray.  This  revealed 
sympathy  with  greatness.  Thackeray  was  one  who 
was  greater  in  life  than  in  his  art,  as  are  all  the 
greatest  artists.  He  was  great  as  a man  of  the 
world.  In  a short  life  his  presence  made  itself 
prevail  everywhere  in  London.  It  requires,  too, 
considerable  genius  to  live  only  in  precisely  the 
street  and  the  house  in  London  you  want  to. 
This  Thackeray  managed  to  do  ; and  to  know  only 


122 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


the  people  you  want  to,  as  Thackeray  did.  This 
is  real  sovereignty. 

There  was  a reserve  about  du  Maurier  in  manner 
when  he  encountered  complete  strangers.  He  re- 
tained the  detached  and  distant  manner  with  slight 
acquaintances  which  his  role  of  an  observer  in 
Society  had  taught  him.  Like  all  those  who  have 
an  exceptionally  loyal  friendship  to  give,  he  could 
not  pretend  to  give  it  to  every  person  introduced  to 
him.  In  this  he  was,  of  course,  no  true  Bohemian. 
In  Bohemian  circles  it  is  the  fashion  to  make  ex- 
travagant use  of  terms  of  endearment  and  to  fall 
upon  the  neck  at  first  meetings,  and  men  like  du 
Maurier  reserve  the  display  of  affection  for  the 
home. 

Art-critics  and  secretaries  of  Art  Galleries,  frame- 
makers  and  all  those  whose  business  throws  them 
into  constant  contact  with  living  artists  and  their 
art,  know  how  exactly  like  their  pictures  artists 
always  are,  their  work  being  immediately  expressive 
of  their  own  fibre,  coarse  or  refined.  Du  Maurier’s 
art  reveals  a marked  preference  for  certain  kinds  of 
people.  In  life  too  he  was  selective  ; knowing 
well  whom  he  liked,  and  in  whom  he  wished  to 
inspire  regard. 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


123 

The  artist’s  family  was  of  the  small  nobility  of 
France.  The  name  Palmella  was  given  him  in 
remembrance  of  the  great  friendship  between  his 
father’s  sister  and  the  Duchess  de  Palmella,  who 
was  the  ‘ wife  of  the  Portuguese  Ambassador  to 
France.  The  real  family  name  was  Busson  ; the 
“ du  Maurier  ” came  from  the  Chateau  le  Maurier, 
built  in  the  fifteenth  century,  and  still  standing  in 
Anjou  or  Maine.  It  belonged  to  du  Maurier’s 
cousins,  the  Auberys,  and  in  the  seventeenth  century 
it  was  the  Auberys  who  wore  the  title  of  du 
Maurier  ; and  an  Aubery  du  Maurier,  who  dis- 
tinguished himself  in  that  century,  was  Louis  of 
that  name,  French  Ambassador  to  Holland.  The 
Auberys  and  the  Bussons  married  and  intermarried, 
the  Bussons  assuming  the  territorial  name  of  du 
Maurier. 

George  du  Maurier’s  grandfather’s  name  was 
Robert  Mathurin  Busson  du  Maurier,  Gentilhomme 
verrier — gentleman  glass-blower.  Until  the  Revolu- 
tion glass-blowing  was  a monopoly  of  the  gentils - 
hommes , no  commoner  might  engage  in  the  industry, 
at  that  time  considered  an  art.  The  Busson 
genealogy  dates  from  the  twelfth  century.  The 
novelist  made  use  of  many  of  the  names  which 


124 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


occur  in  papers  relating  to  his  family  history,  in 
Peter  Ibbetson. 

Du  Maurier’s  father  was  a small  rentier , deriving 
his  income  from  the  family  glass-works  in  Anjou. 
He  was  born  in  England,  whither  the  artist’s 
grandfather  had  fled  to  escape  the  Revolution  and 
the  guillotine,  returning  to  France  in  1 8 1 6. 

His  grandmother  was  a bourgeoise,  by  name 
Bruaire,  a descendant  of  Jean  Bart,  the  admiral. 
His  grandfather  was  not  rich,  and  while  in  England 
mainly  depended  on  the  liberality  of  the  British 
Government,  which  allowed  him  a pension  of  twenty 
pounds  a year  for  each  member  of  his  family.  He 
died  a schoolmaster  at  Tours. 

The  mother  of  the  artist  was  an  Englishwoman 
married  to  his  father  at  the  British  Embassy  in 
Paris,  and  the  artist  was  born  in  Paris  on  March  6, 
1834,  in  a little  house  in  the  Champs  Elysees. 
His  parents  removed  to  Belgium  in  1863,  where 
they  stayed  three  years.  When  the  child  was  five 
they  came  to  London,  taking  1 Devonshire  Terrace, 
Marylebone  Road — the  house  which  a year  later 
was  taken  by  Charles  Dickens.  Du  Maurier  re- 
membered riding  in  the  park,  on  a little  pony, 
escorted  by  a groom,  who  led  his  pony  by  a strap. 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


125 


One  day  there  cantered  past  a young  woman  sur- 
rounded by  horsemen  ; at  the  bidding  of  his  groom 
he  waved  his  hat,  and  the  lady  smiled  and  kissed 
her  hand  to  him.  It  was  Queen  Victoria  with  her 
equerries. 

The  father  grew  very  poor.  He  was  a man  of 
scientific  tastes,  and  lost  his  money  in  inventions 
which  never  came  to  anything.  After  a year  in 
Devonshire  Terrace  the  family  had  to  wander  again, 
going  to  Boulogne,  where  they  lived  at  the  top  of  the 
Grand  Rue.  Here  the  artist  said  they  lived  in  a 
beautiful  house,  and  had  sunny  hours  and  were  happy. 

Apropos  of  du  Maurier’s  early  homes,  Sir  Francis 
Burnand,  in  his  Records  and  Reminiscences . tells  an 


ERRATA 


Page  124,  line 


„ 127,  „ 

„ 127,  » 

„ I3»»  » 

»»  1561  >> 


22,  for  ‘a  year  later  was  taken  by’  read  ‘had  been 
formerly  occupied  by.’ 

14,  for  ‘ No.  108’  read  * 80.’ 

15,  delete  ‘ This  house  still  stands.’  ? 

2, for  ‘ Cornhill  Magazine’  read  ‘ Once  a Week. 

6,  for  ‘ eldest  ’ read  ‘ youngest.’ 


Du  Maurier. 


124 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


occur  in  papers  relating  to  his  family  history,  in 
Peter  Ibbetson. 

Du  Maurier’s  father  was  a small  rentier , deriving 
his  income  from  the  family  glass-works  in  Anjou. 
He  was  born  in  England,  whither  the  artist’s 
grandfather  had  fled  to  escape  the  Revolution  and 
the  guillotine,  returning  to  France  in  1 8 1 6. 

His  grandmother  was  a bourgeoise,  by  name 
Bruaire,  a descendant  of  Jean  Bart,  the  admiral. 
His  grandfather  was  not  rich,  and  while  in  England 
mainly  depended  on  the  liberality  of  the  British 
Government,  which  allowed  him  a pension  of  twenty 
pounds  a year  for  each  member  of  his  family.  He 
died  a schoolmaster  at  Tours. 

mr\tKf>r  a f - XT' 1-  _1_ 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


125 

One  day  there  cantered  past  a young  woman  sur- 
rounded by  horsemen  ; at  the  bidding  of  his  groom 
he  waved  his  hat,  and  the  lady  smiled  and  kissed 
her  hand  to  him.  It  was  Queen  Victoria  with  her 
equerries. 

The  father  grew  very  poor.  He  was  a man  of 
scientific  tastes,  and  lost  his  money  in  inventions 
which  never  came  to  anything.  After  a year  in 
Devonshire  Terrace  the  family  had  to  wander  again, 
going  to  Boulogne,  where  they  lived  at  the  top  of  the 
Grand  Rue.  Here  the  artist  said  they  lived  in  a 
beautiful  house,  and  had  sunny  hours  and  were  happy. 

Apropos  of  du  Maurier’s  early  homes,  Sir  Francis 
Burnand,  in  his  Records  and  Reminiscences , tells  an 
amusing  story,  which,  whilst  of  necessity  abbrevi- 
ating, we  shall  try  to  give  as  nearly  as  possible  in  his 
own  words.  Some  members  of  the  Punch  staff  who, 
with  the  proprietors,  were  visiting  Paris  during  the 
Exhibition  year  of  1889,  took  a drive  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Passy.  Du  Maurier,  who  had  not 
stayed  in  Paris  for  some  years,  pointed  out  house 
after  house  as  being  his  birthplace.  He  started 
with  the  selection  of  a small  but  attractive  suburban 
residence,  afterwards  correcting  himself  and  pointing 
to  a house  much  more  attractive-looking  than  the 


126 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


first.  Soon,  however,  the  puzzled  expression  which 
his  companions  had  noticed  in  him  before,  returned 
to  his  face,  and  he  called  a halt  for  the  third  time, 
pointing  to  a large  house  in  an  extensive  garden 
with  a fountain.  “ No,”  he  exclaimed  with  con- 
viction, “ I was  wrong.  This  is  where  I was  born. 
There’s  the  fountain,  there  are  the  green  shutters  ! 
and  in  that  room  ! ” The  party  descended  again  and 
poured  out  libations.  After  the  sleepy  stage  of  a 
long  drive  had  been  reached,  du  Maurier  awoke, 
and,  as  if  soliloquising,  muttered,  “ No,  no,  I was 
wrong,  absurdly  wrong.  But  I see  my  mistake.” 
And  he  aroused  his  companions  to  view  a fine 
mansion  approached  by  a drive. 

“Yes,”  he  exclaimed,  “the  other  places  were 
mistakes.  It  is  so  difficult  to  remember  the  exact 
spot  where  one  was  born.  But  there  can  be  no 
doubt  about  this.  Cocker!  Arretez!  s'il  vous  plait” 
he  cried,  and  he  was  about  to  open  the  door  and 
descend,  when  William  Bradbury,  of  the  party, 
stopped  him. 

“ No,  you  don’t,  Kiki  ; you’ve  been  born  in  three 
or  four  places  already,  and  we’ve  drunk  your  health  in 
every  one  of  ’em  ; so  we  won’t  do  it  again  till  you’ve 
quite  made  up  your  mind  where  you  were  born.” 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


127 


In  vain  du  Maurier  protested.  <c  You  bring  us  out 
for  a holiday,  you  take  us  about  everywhere,  and  you 
won’t  let  a chap  be  born  where  he  likes.”  But  Mr. 
Bradbury  was  inexorable  ; the  door  was  closed,  the 
coachman  grinned,  cracked  his  whip,  and  away  they 
went,  the  party  siding  with  Mr.  Bradbury  in  objecting 
to  pulling  up  at  every  inn  to  toast  the  occasion. 

Sir  Francis  speaks  of  what  fun  du  Maurier  was 
at  such  times,  and  of  never  remembering  having 
seen  him  so  boyish,  so  “ Trilbyish  ” as  on  the 
occasion  of  the  memorable  visit. 

From  Boulogne  du  Maurier  was  brought  by  his 
family  to  Paris,  to  live  in  an  apartment  on  the  first 
floor  of  the  house  No.  108  in  the  Champs  Elysees. 
This  house  still  stands.  In  the  artist’s  manhood  the 
ground  and  first  floor  were  a cafe,  and  he  said  he  felt 
sorry  to  look  up  at  the  windows  from  which  his 
mother  used  to  watch  his  return  from  school,  and 
see  waiters  bustling  about  and  his  home  invaded. 

I § 2 

He  went  to  school  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  in  the 
Pension  Froussard,  in  the  Avenue  du  Bois  de 
Boulogne.  He  remembered  with  affection  his 


128 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


master  Froussard,  who  became  a deputy  after  the 
Revolution  of  1848.  He  owned  to  being  lazy,  with 
no  particular  bent  ; but  he  worked  really  hard,  he 
confessed,  for  one  year.  He  made  a number  of 
friends,  but  of  his  comrades  at  that  school  only  one 
distinguished  himself  in  after  life,  Louis  Becque  de 
Fouquiere,  the  writer,  whose  life  has  been  written  by 
M.  Anatole  France. 

The  artist  went  up  for  his  bachot , his  bacca- 
laureate degree,  at  the  Sorbonne,  and  was  plucked 
for  his  written  Latin  version.  It  vexed  him  and 
his  mother,  for  they  were  poor  at  the  time,  and 
it  was  important  that  he  should  do  well.  His 
father  was  then  in  England.  Du  Maurier  crossed 
to  him  before  informing  him  of  his  failure,  miserable 
with  the  communication  he  had  to  make.  They 
met  at  the  landing  at  London  Bridge,  and  at  the 
sight  of  his  utterly  woebegone  face,  guessing  the 
truth,  his  father  burst  into  a roar  of  laughter,  which, 
said  the  son  afterwards,  gave  him  the  greatest  pleasure 
he  ever  experienced. 

His  father  was  scientific,  and  hated  everything 
that  was  not  science.  Du  Maurier,  with  his  en- 
thusiasm for  Byron,  had  to  meet  this  attitude  as  best 
he  could.  His  father  never  reproached  him  for  the 


1 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


129 

failure  in  the  bachot  examination.  He  had  made  up 
his  mind  that  his  son  was  intended  for  a scientist, 
and  determined  to  make  him  one,  putting  him  as 
a pupil  at  the  Birkbeck  Chemical  Laboratory  of 
University  College,  where  he  studied  chemistry 
under  Dr.  Williamson.  The  son’s  own  ambition 
at  that  time  was  to  go  in  for  music  and  singing. 
“ My  father,”  he  said,  “possessed  the  sweetest,  most 
beautiful  voice  that  I have  ever  heard  ; and  if  he  had 
taken  up  singing  as  a profession,  would  most  certainly 
have  been  the  greatest  singer  of  his  time.  In  his. 
youth  he  had  studied  music  at  the  Paris  Con- 
servatoire, but  his  family  objected  to  his  following 
the  profession,  for  they  were  Legitimists  and  strong 
Catholics,  and  held  the  stage  in  that  contempt  that 
was  usual  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  century.” 

The  artist  himself  as  a youth  was  crazy  about 
music,  and  used  to  practise  his  voice  wherever  and 
whenever  he  could.  But  his  father  discouraged 
him.  The  father  died  in  his  arms,  singing  one  of 
Count  de  Segur’s  songs. 

He  remained  at  the  Birkbeck  Laboratory  for 
two  years,  leaving  there  in  1854,  when  his  parent, 
still  convinced  of  the  future  before  his  son  in  the 
pursuit  of  science,  set  him  up  on  his  own  account 

1 


130 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


in  a chemical  laboratory  in  Barge  Yard,  Bucklers- 
bury,  in  the  City.  The  house  is  still  standing.  “ It 
was,”  says  du  Maurier,  “ a fine  laboratory,  for  my 
father,  being  a poor  man,  naturally  fitted  it  up  in 
the  most  expensive  style.”  “ The  only  occasion,” 
he  continues,  “ on  which  the  sage  of  Barge  Yard 
was  able  to  render  any  real  service  to  humanity 
was  when  he  was  engaged  by  the  directors  of  a 
Company  for  working  certain  gold  mines  in  Devon- 
shire which  were  being  greatly  boomed,  and  to  which 
the  public  was  subscribing  heavily,  to  go  down  to 
Devonshire  to  assay  the  ore.  I fancy  they  expected 
me  to  send  them  a report  likely  to  further  tempt 
the  public.  If  this  was  their  expectation,  they 
were  mistaken,  for  after  a few  experiments  I went 
back  to  town  and  told  them  that  there  was  not 
a vestige  of  gold  in  the  ore.  The  directors  were 
of  course  very  dissatisfied  with  this  statement,  and 
insisted  on  my  returning  to  Devonshire  to  make 
further  investigation.  I went  and  had  a good  time 
of  it  down  in  the  country,  for  the  miners  were  very 
jolly  fellows  ; but  I was  unable  to  satisfy  my  em- 
ployers, and  sent  up  a report  which  showed  the 
public  that  the  whole  thing  was  a swindle,  and  so 
saved  a good  many  people  from  loss.” 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


l3l 

Du  Maurier  told  the  story  of  this  business  in 
the  Cornhill  Magazine  in  1 86 1 ; it  is  written*  in 
a highly  amusing  strain. 

We  have  taken  relevant  extracts,  as  follows, 
from  the  amusing  story,  partly  because  it  exhibits 
the  artist  for  the  first  time  as  an  Author,  and 
partly  because  it  continues  the  narrative  of  his 
life  : — 


§ 3 

“ Somebody  who  took  a great  interest  in  me 
(my  father)  had  just  established  me  in  the  City  as 
an  analytical  chemist  and  mining  engineer.  Now, 
if  there  was  one  thing  in  the  world  for  which  I 
was  peculiarly,  and  I may  even  say  extraordinarily, 
unfit,  it  was  that  very  useful  profession  ; but  it  is 
a well-known  fact  that  the  fondest  parents  are  not 
always  the  most  discriminating  in  the  choice  of 
professions  for  their  sons.  So  I had  spent  two 
years  in  a school  of  chemistry,  attending  lectures 
and  performing  analyses,  qualitative  and  quantitative, 
and  various  other  chemical  experiments,  which  I 
used  to  think  very  droll  and  amusing,  in  order  to 
fit  myself  for  my  future  career,  and  at  length, 
thanks  to  my  father’s  kindness,  I found  myself 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


I32 

master  of  a laboratory  which  had  been  arranged 
in  a manner  regardless  of  expense,  with  water  and 
gas  laid  on  in  every  possible  corner,  and  bottles, 
chemical  stoves,  and  scales,  &c.,  of  a most  ornamental 
brightness  and  perfection. 

“ Here  I waited  for  employment  daily,  and  enter- 
tained my  friends  with  sumptuous  hospitality  at 
lunch  and  supper  ; here  also  I occasionally  astonished 
my  mother  and  sister  by  dexterously  turning  yellow 
liquids  into  blue  ones,  and  performing  other  marvels 
of  science — accomplishments  which  I have  almost 
entirely  forgotten  (in  my  prospectus  it  was  stated 
that  assays  of  ore  and  analyses  of  minerals,  &c., 
would  be  most  carefully  conducted,  and  all  business 
of  the  kind  attended  to,  with  great  steadiness  and 
despatch)  ; and  pending  the  advent  of  work,  the 
scene  of  my  future  operations  was  enlivened  by 
athletic  sport  and  every  kind  of  jollification,  which 
helped  me  to  endure  the  anxiety  of  my  parents 
at  seeing  me  start  on  the  serious  business  of  life 
so  young.”  He  goes  on  to  say  that,  thanks  to  kind- 
ness of  friends  of  his  family,  employment  came  : he 
was  given  an  order  for  analysing  various  specimens 
of  soil  from  a friend’s  estate.  “ I conducted  these 
experiments  with  proper  earnestness,  and  he  paid 


I 


Queen  Priina-Donna  at  Home 

Chorus . “ O,  Mamma  ! — Dear  Mamma  ! — Darling  Mamma  ! ! 
leave  off!  ! !” 

(Showing  that  no  one  is  a prophet  in  his  own  country.) 

Punch , 

November  7,  1874. 


.bORGi  DU  MAURIER 


cr  regardless  of  expc  ' and 

every  possible  t tries, 

•'id  scales,  &c  •’  ' :<l 

:ness  and  perfection. 

' Here  I waited  for  employment  - - 

3ffioH  BfihoG-flrph4  imuD  at 

to  • ■ t&iM  Bmms-r  /.  Rmn,M  ,o » 

b!  e ones,  ind  oerfortr  lg  > , r marvels 

entirely  forgotten  (in  ifsy^rospectus  it  was  stated 
assays  of  ore4  of  minerals,  &c., 

would  be  most  carefully  conducted,  and  all  business 
of  the  kind  attended  to,  with  great  steadiness  and 
md  pui  ic  advent  of  ' ork  the 

>cen<  of  my  future  operations  was  enlivened  by 
athletic  sport  and  every  kind  of  jollification,  which 
le  to  endure  the  anxiety  ot  my  parents 
at  seeing  me  start  'on  the  serious  business  of  life 
He  goes  on  to  say  that,  thanks  to  kind 
of  fneftds  of  his  family,  employment  * | 

$iven  an  order  for  analysing 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


1 33 


me  for  them  with  becoming  gravity.  I now  thank 
him  kindly  for  the  same  (it  would  have  been  undig- 
nified to  do  so  then)  and  sincerely  hope  that  he 
has  found  my  scientific  research  beneficial  to  his 
land.”  Then  the  gold  contagion  suddenly  broke 
out  and  committed  great  ravages.  “ I caught  it 
one  rainy  afternoon  near  the  Exchange  ; my  mother 
and  sister  instantly  became  affected,  but  my  father, 
who  was  of  a stout  habit  and  robust  temperament, 
and  gifted  with  a very  practical  turn  of  mind, 
fortunately  escaped,  and  devoted  himself  to  our 
cure.  Thanks  to  his  judicious  nursing,  I was 
the  first  to  recover.”  “ The  gold  fever  raged 
worse  and  worse,  and  I waited  impatiently  for  it 
to  give  me  employment  ; at  length  it  did  so,  in  a 
few  months  from  the  period  of  its  birth  : somebody 
introduced  me  to  somebody  else,  who  introduced  me 
to  the  chairman  of  the  Victoria  Gold  and  Copper 
Mine,  situated  near  Moleville,  in  Blankshire.” 

Then  follows  an  interview  with  the  directors. 
“ It  was  necessary  that  in  my  interview  with  the 
directors  next  day,  I should  cram  them  with  every 
possible  technical  term  that  had  ever  been  invented 
for  the  purpose.” 

He  manages  to  squeeze  “ lodes,”  “ gossans,” 


*34 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


“ costeanings,”  and  other  impressive  words  into 
almost  every  sentence.  It  produces  a great  effect  on 
the  directors. 

The  offer  of  a guinea  and  a half  a day  to  go 
down  the  mine  inspires  a wild  impulse  to  embrace 
the  whole  board  in  the  person  of  the  venerable  fat 
old  fellow  who  makes  the  offer.  This  is  restrained. 
“ I told  him  I would  think  of  the  matter,  and  return 
him  an  answer  the  following  day  ; and,  after  bounc- 
ing myself  first  into  the  office-clerk  and  then  into 
the  fire-place,  I eventually  succeeded  in  making  an 
unconcerned  exit.” 

“ I pass  over  my  triumphant  sensations  and  the 
family  bliss,  only  chequered  by  anxiety  lest  the 
Victoria  Gold  and  Copper  Mine  should  come  to 
grief  before  I got  there.” 

He  then  travels  through  enchanting  scenery,  and 
is  conducted  to  the  mine.  “ Some  five  and  twenty 
or  thirty  shaggy  rough-looking  men  were  about. 
These  were  the  miners.  Their  appearance  was  not 
reassuring,  and  when  the  engineer  left  me  alone 
with  them,  with  a parting  injunction  that  I was  to 
make  them  feel  I had  an  iron  will  at  once,  I confess 
I felt  myself  uncomfortably  young,  and  a little  bit 
at  a loss. 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


l3S 


“We  proceeded  to  business  at  once,  however; 
and  as  I met  their  first  little  symptoms  of  insub- 
ordination with  one  or  two  acts  of  summary  justice 
(which  I will  spare  the  reader,  but  which,  emanating 
from  me,  caused  me  unlimited  astonishment),  I soon 
established  a proper  authority  over  them,  and  we 
thenceforward  got  on  together  capitally. ” 

We  are  then  given  extracts  from  a mining  diary 
— significantly  left  off  at  a particular  stage  of  the 
proceedings — used  as  a sketch-book.  An  unfavour- 
able report  as  to  the  finding  of  gold  is  sent  in  to 
the  board. 

“ The  miners  did  not  believe  in  the  mine,  and 
as  they  perceived  that  I did  not  either,  they  believed 
in  me  to  a most  flattering  extent.”  He  soon  got 
very  much  attached  to  the  miners,  and  used  to  tell 
stories  about  foreign  lands  while  they  were  distilling 
the  pure  mercury,  or  performing  other  innocent 
operations  suggested  by  the  board,  enlightening  them 
on  various  subjects  where  he  felt  their  ignorance  to 
be  equal  to  his  own.  “ My  letters  home  contained 
descriptions  and  sketches  of  them,  and  my  mamma 
became  interested  in  their  spiritual  welfare.”  Sur- 
rounded by  the  halo  of  memory,  they  afterwards 
seemed  to  him  primitive  gentlemen  worthy  of  King 


1 36  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

Arthur’s  Round  Table.  He  describes  existence  be- 
tween the  hours  of  work  as  full  of  charm  owing  to 
the  friendship  of  surrounding  farmers  and  small 
gentry.  In  a “ Trilby”  way  he  describes  how  he 
“ rode,  and  wrestled,  and  boxed  with  them  ! and  fell 
in  love  with  their  sisters,  and  sketched  them,  and 
sang  Tyrolese  melodies  to  them,  . . . blessing  the 
lucky  stroke  of  fortune  which  had  made  him  mining 
engineer  to  a gold  mine  without  any  gold,  and 
managed  by  gentlemen  who  obstinately  persisted  in 
ignoring  the  latter  important  fact,  in  spite  of  his 
honest  endeavours  to  persuade  them  of  it.”  “I  have,” 
he  says,  ‘‘only  to  hum  a certain  ‘jodel’  chorus,  and 
the  whole  scene  returns  to  me,  surrounded  by  that 
peculiar  fascination  which  belongs  to  past  pleasures 
— a phenomenon  far  more  interesting  to  me  than 
the  most  marvellous  phenomenon  of  science.” 

Every  artist  is  an  experimental  psychologist,  the 
material  for  his  art  is  really  always  some  mental 
experience.  He  wishes  to  communicate  with  his 
public  in  the  spirit  of  this  experience.  With  Scott 
it  was  the  old  associations  of  places,  with  du  Maurier 
the  associations  of  “ old  times,”  of  personal  memory. 
This  was  the  frame  of  mind  the  interpretation  of 
which  absorbed  him  in  his  literary  art,  distinguishing 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


!37 

it,  except  in  his  early  Cornhill  work,  from  his  art 
with  the  pencil. 

There  is  not  much  in  the  remaining  part  of  the 
gold-mine  narrative  which  can  be  shown  to  bear 
upon  the  artist’s  career.  The  conclusion  of  the 
story  shows  his  forfeiture  of  the  regard  of  the  direc- 
tors by  openness  of  speech  to  the  shareholders  as  to 
the  proceedings  at  the  mine. 

Such  was  his  experience  of  a mine  in  Devon- 
shire and  of  relationship  with  the  miners,  who, 
with  the  limited  experience  of  the  mining  classes  in 
those  days,  had  some  difficulty  in  “placing”  du 
Maurier  with  his,  to  them,  unusual  physical  delicacy 
and  yet  more  unusual  personal  charm. 


§4 

The  literary  gift  in  the  above  narration  will,  we 
think,  be  evident  even  in  our  quotations.  But  during 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  du  Maurier’s  literary  gift 
remained  unknown  to  the  general  public,  though 
more  than  one  editor  under  whom  he  served  on 
Punch  urged  him  to  take  a writer’s  salary  and  be  on 
the  literary  as  well  as  on  the  artistic  staff.  It  was 
said  that  he  relied  with  comfort  upon  this  second 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


1 38 

talent  to  support  him  in  the  event  of  his  sight  failing 
him  altogether.  There  was  a space  of  thirty  years 
between  the  above  contribution  to  Once  a Week 
and  the  writing  of  his  first  novel,  Peter  Ibbetson . 
But  it  is  in  that  novel  that  he  again  returns  to  the 
story  of  his  career,  through  boyhood  and  youth, 
leading  up  to  the  period  in  which  his  father  started 
him  in  the  laboratory. 

Du  Maurier  had  in  1856,  when  his  father  died, 
practically  the  choice  of  two  arts,  painting  and 
singing,  in  both  of  which  he  seemed  to  have  a 
chance  of  distinguishing  himself.  And  as  the  essay 
of  1861  was  so  soon  afterwards  to  prove,  there  was 
really  another  alternative,  that  of  authorship,  for  the 
gifted  analytical  chemist.  He  decided  then  to  for- 
sake the  chemistry  to  which  he  had  been  trained, 
but  remained  undecided  about  everything  else. 

In  1856,  at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  he  returned 
to  Paris  with  his  mother,  to  live  in  the  Rue  Paradis- 
Poissoniere,  very  poor,  very  dull,  and  very  miser- 
able, as  he  himself  has  said  ; but  almost  at  the 
entrance  of  what  he  describes  as  the  best  time  of 
his  life — that  period  in  which,  deciding  to  follow 
art  as  a profession,  he  entered  the  studio  of  Gleyre. 
Those  were  the  joyous  Quartier  Latin  days.  He 


Honour  Where  Honour  is  Due 

Sir  Gorgius  Midas  (who  has  not  been  made  a Peer).  “Why,  it’s 
enough  to  make  a man  turn  Radical , ’anged  if  it  ain’t,  to 
think  of  sich  services  as  mine  bein’  rewarded  with  no  ’igher 
title  than  what’s  bestowed  on  a heminent  Sawbones,  or  a 
Hingerneer,  or  a Littery  Man,  or  even  a successful  Hartist  ! ” 

Mrs.  Ponsonby  de  Tomkyns  (sympathetically).  “It  does  seem  hard! 
But  you’ve  only  to  bide  your  time,  Sir  Gorgius.  No  man 
of  your  stamp  need  ever  despair  of  a Peerage  ! ” 

(And  Mrs.  Ponsonby  de  Tomkyns  is,  as  usual,  quite  right.) 

Punch , 

May  15,  1880. 


‘38 


GEORGE  DU  MAURI ER 


t to  support  him  in  the  event  cl  his  sight  failing 

ove  contribution  u 

ci  _hi$  rst  • twn. 

3uu  ,8i . tyonoll  snort  W luoapiJL 

it  t novel  that  ne  a the- 

')'[  t7flWJ>  wkU  i.w\  VaVsWH  ' 

ut  ti|ctjj5;  >iv  lu  rh"fr  asm,  r,  • slutn  at  dguona 

^pbiswsi  'nbd  9nim  zr  zsdi  nsz  rbis  lo  ^nirb 
e io  -^noa wr2  insnirftsrl  r no  bawerfz^d  d'tsdw  niirb  abb 
'•  ffcH  Ir^Wurfevo  lO*Ui  V-^d  r, iro  ^ niH 

ine,!  WrfM  2#  $ fi i 

ntm  oH  .?uisjoO  ii2  .omi}.  ,-iijov  .abid  o*  vLno  sv  uov  tutl 

“ of  distinguifrwp^%^iBq^^v|^eq^|3^lo 
86l  wa(jrlSn  sirup  ,le.rei/  * ,*i  mvAnc.T  sb  ydricfetoTC  .»M  bnA) 

1 period  in  which,  decidin:  t<- 


*x\Z 


tU 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


*39 

has  described  Gleyre’s  studio  in  Trilby . The  happy 
life  there  lasted  a year  : Whistler  and  Poynter,  as 
is  well  known,  were  his  fellow-students. 

The  studio  of  Gleyre  was  inherited  from  Dela- 
roche,  and  afterwards  handed  down  to  Gerome. 
Whistler,  Poynter,  du  Maurier,  Lamont,  and  Thomas 
Armstrong  were  the  group  of  Trilby , Lamont  was 
“ the  Laird,”  Aleco  Ionides  “the  Greek,”  and  Rowley 
is  supposed  to  have  been  “Taffy.”1 

In  1857  du  Maurier  went  on  to  the  Antwerp 
Academy,  where  the  masters  were  De  Keyser  and 
Van  Lerins.  It  was  in  the  latter’s  studio  that  the 
disaster  of  his  life  occurred.  He  was  drawing  from 
a model,  when  suddenly  the  girl’s  head  seemed  to 
him  to  dwindle  to  the  size  of  a walnut.  He  clapped 
his  hand  over  his  left  eye,  and  wondered  if  he  had 
been  mistaken.  He  could  see  as  well  as  ever. 
But  when  in  its  turn  he  covered  his  right  eye  he 
learned  what  had  happened.  His  left  eye  had  failed 
him.  It  might  be  altogether  lost.  It  grew  worse, 
until  the  fear  of  blindness  overtook  him.  In  the 
spring  of  1859  he  went  to  a specialist  in  Dusseldorf, 
who,  while  deciding  that  the  left  eye  was  lost,  said 
that  with  care  there  was  no  reason  to  fear  losing 
1 Pennell’s  Life  of  Whistler . 


1 40 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


the  other.  Du  Maurier  was  never  able  to  shake 
off  the  terror  of  apprehension.  He  was  apparently 
a hopeless  invalid  at  Christmas-time  in  1859,  “ in 
some  dreary,  deserted,  dismal  Flemish  town,”  in  hos- 
pital. Turning  over  Punch's  Almanack , the  delight 
the  paper  afforded  him  in  such  unhappy  circum- 
stances was  “ a thing  not  to  be  forgotten.”  It  fired 
him  with  a new  ambitious  dream.  The  astonishing 
thing  was  that  before  another  year  was  over  the 
dream  was  beginning  to  come  true  : he  was  in 
England,  making  friends  with  Keene,  who  introduced 
him  to  John  Leech,  whom  he  was  destined  to 
succeed  at  Punch's  table. 

The  artist  left  Antwerp  in  i860,  and  for  several 
months  he  and  Whistler  lived  together  in  Newman 
Street.  Their  studio  has  been  described.  Stretched 
across  it  was  a rope  like  a clothes-line,  from  which 
floated  a bit  of  brocade,  their  curtain  to  shut  off 
the  corner  used  as  a bedroom.  There  was  hardly 
even  a chair  to  sit  on,  and  often  with  the  brocade 
a towel  hung  from  the  line. 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


141 


§ 5 

In  the  autumn  of  i860  the  artist  began  to 
contribute  to  Once  a Week . Then  followed  a con- 
tribution to  Punch , for  which  he  continued  to  draw 
as  an  occasional  contributor  chiefly  of  initial  letters 
and  the  like,  until  he  reached  the  stage  of  contri- 
buting regular  “ Pictures  ” with  legends  beneath  in 
1864.  It  was  not  until  1865,  however,  that  his 
full  pages  in  Punch  became  frequent.  In  that  year 
he  succeeded  Leech  at  the  Punch  table. 

His  career  practically  began  with  his  marriage 
to  Miss  Emma  Wightwick.  Following  the  example 
of  his  master,  Thackeray,  he  courageously  married 
upon  “ prospects,”  as  soon  as  ever  the  promise  of 
regular  employment  for  his  pencil  seemed  to  be 
secure.  This  was  the  year  in  which  he  illustrated 
Mrs.  Gaskell’s  Sylvia  s Lovers . “ My  life,”  he  once 

said,  “ was  a very  prosperous  one  from  the  outset 
in  London  ; I was  married  in  1863,  and  my  wife 
and  I never  once  knew  financial  troubles.  My  only 
trouble  has  been  my  fear  about  my  eyes.  Apart 
from  that  I have  been  very  happy.” 

Upon  marrying,  du  Maurier  moved  to  Great 


142 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


Russell  Street,  and,  later,  to  rooms  in  Earl’s  Terrace, 
Kensington,  the  house  where  Walter  Pater  died. 

In  the  days  when  he  was  living  in  Great  Russell 
Street  the  journalistic  world  of  London  was  very 
Bohemian.  It  is  true  that  Leech  had  not  made  a 
good  Bohemian,  but  it  was  not  until  some  time 
after  du  Maurier’s  accession  to  the  Punch  table 
that  the  weekly  dinner  lost  an  uproarious  gaiety 
that  is  recognised  as  the  true  Bohemian  note.  Mr. 
Punch  and  his  staff  all  improved  their  tone,  Bohemia 
is  now  only  a memory.  It  is  the  very  genius  of 
Mr.  Punch  that  makes  him  respond  to  the  moment 
and  become  the  most  decorous  figure  in  the  world 
in  decorous  times. 

One  cannot  help  being  struck  by  a resemblance 
between  the  coming  to  town  and  the  almost  im- 
mediate success  there  of  du  Maurier  and  Thackeray. 
The  comparison  has  its  interest  in  the  fact  that 
as  every  man  has  his  master,  beyond  all  dispute 
Thackeray  was  du  Maurier’s  master.  Both  quitted 
Bohemia,  but  in  Society  always  retained  the  de- 
tachment of  artists.  It  was  near  to  Thackeray’s 
initials  that  du  Maurier  was  destined  to  cut  his 
own  on  the  great  Punch  table.  He  himself  de- 
scribed the  glamour  Thackeray’s  name  possessed 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


H3 

for  him,  inspiring  him  as  he  climbed  out  of  the 
despair  that  followed  the  sudden  partial  deprivation 
of  his  sight.  The  only  time  he  met  his  master  he 
was  too  diffident  to  accept  an  invitation  to  be 
introduced.  Thackeray  seemed  so  great.  But  all 
that  evening  he  remained  as  close  to  him  as 
possible,  greedily  listening  to  his  words.  Like 
Thackeray,  du  Maurier  thought  that  the  finest 
thing  in  the  world  was  to  live  without  fear  and 
without  reproach.  It  is  probable  that  Thackeray 
would  not  at  all  have  minded  not  being  taken  for 
a genius,  but  he  would  violently  have  resented  not 
being  accounted  a gentleman.  For  him  that  implied 
the  great  heart  and  the  scrupulous  honour  which 
Bohemia  does  not  insist  upon  if  you  have  great 
spirits. 


144 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


§ 6 

Of  du  Maurier’s  great  friendship  with  Canon 
Ainger,  which  commenced  in  the  seventies,  light  is 
to  be  obtained  from  Edith  Sichefs  Life  and  Letters  of 
Alfred  Ainger} 

“ For  fifteen  years,”  says  Miss  Sichel,  “ they 
always  met  once,  and  generally  twice  a day.  Hamp- 
stead knew  their  figures  as  every  afternoon  they 
walked  round  the  pond  on  the  Heath,  deep  in  con- 
versation. Edward  Fitzgerald  himself  never  had 
a closer  friendship  than  had  these  two  men  for  one 
another.  Their  mental  climates  suited  ; they  were 
akin,  yet  had  strong  differences.  Perhaps  in  the 
quickness  of  their  mutual  attraction  Frenchman 
recognised  Frenchman.  But  Ainger  was  the  French 
Huguenot  and  du  Maurier  the  French  sceptic. 
Both  had  mercurial  perceptions,  and  exercised  them 
on  much  the  same  objects.  Both  were  wits  and 
humorists,  but  Ainger  was  more  of  a wit  than  a 
humorist,  and  du  Maurier  was  more  of  a humorist 
than  a wit.  Both  were  men  of  fancy  rather  than 
of  imagination,  men  of  sentiment  rather  than  of 
passion.  Both,  too,  were  fantastics  ; both  loved 
1 Archibald  Constable  & Co. 


Canon  Ainger 

Portrait  in  water-colour  by  du  Maurier. 
In  the  possession  of  the  artist’s  widow. 


& 6 


'Midship  wi 

. winch  commenced  in  the  seventies,  light 
•bt  ncd  from  Edith  Sichel’s  Life  and  Letter  f 

Alfred  Ainger.1 

For  fifteen  years,”  says  Miss  Sichel,  “ they 

mer  once,  and  generally  twice  a day.  Hamp- 
lOgniA  nont3  •noon  they 

round.^eppflji^  „)o[o3.13)I.w  af&j^gj  in  con- 

. nself  nev 

.wnl)iw  * isilip  art.}  lo  noie«3sso(i  arb  nl 

ither.  Their  mental  climates  suited  ; they  were  ‘ 
rkin,  yet  had  strong  di.  ences.  Perhaps  in  the 
. ness  of  their  mutual  attractioa  Frenchman 
recognised  Frenchman.  But  Ainger  was  the  French 
Huguenot  and  du  Maurier  the  French  sceptic. 
Both  had  mercurial  perceptions,  and  exercised  them 
on  much  the  same  objects.  Both  were  wits  and 

lger  was  more  of 

humorist,  and  du  Maurier  was  more  of  a humorist 


than  a wit.  Both  were  men  of  fane  v rather  than 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


H5 

what  was  beautiful  and  graceful  rather  than  what 
was  grand  ; but  du  Maurier  was  more  of  the  pure 
artist,  while  to  Ainger  the  moral  side  of  beauty  most 
appealed.  . . . Both  men  were  gifted  with  an  ex- 
quisite kindness.  . . . Du  Maurier  was  the  keener 
and  clearer  thinker  of  the  two  ; he  had  the  wider 
outlook  and  the  fewer  prejudices.”  Their  closest 
bond  was  Punchy  which  was  to  Ainger  a delight 
from  cover  to  cover. 

The  artist’s  love  of  Whitby  is  well  known  ; he 
expressed  it  himself  in  his  Punch  drawings  over 
and  over  again.  He  wrote  to  Ainger  in  1891  : “It 
is  delightful  to  get  a letter  from  you  at  Whitby — 
the  place  we  all  like  best  in  the  world.”  He  gives 
a list  of  places  and  things  to  be  especially  seen  there* 
among  them  the  cottage  of  Sylvia  Robson  of  Sylvia's 
Lovers , and  No  1 St.  Hilda’s  Terrace,  “ the  humble 
but  singularly  charming  little  house  where  your 
friends  have  dwelt,  and  would  fain  dwell  again  (and 
two  of  them  end  their  days  there,  somewhere  towards 
the  middle  of  the  twentieth  century).” 

It  was  at  Whitby  when  Ainger  and  his  nieces 
were  there  with  the  du  Mauriers  that  they  were 
once  delighted  by  seeing  “Trilby  Drops”  advertised 
in  a little  village  sweet-shop.  “ Such  is  fame,”  said 

K 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


146 

du  Maurier,  but  when  his  daughter  went  in  to  ask 
about  the  “ drops,”  the  girl  behind  the  counter  had 
no  idea  what  “ Trilby”  meant. 

In  the  summer  numbers  of  past  volumes  of  Punch 
Whitby  has  figured  in  the  background  of  seaside 
scenes  perhaps  more  than  any  other  watering-place. 
Du  Maurier  nearly  always  drew  upon  it  for  seaside 
pictures  and  the  humour  of  the  summer  holidays. 
He  formed  his  first  acquaintance  with  it  in  illus- 
trating Sylvia  s Lovers . The  scene  of  that  tale  is 
Whitby  under  another  name.  Thus  he  started  his 
connection  with  the  town  in  circumstances  that 
seemed  to  him  to  give  it  a glamour.  Not  only  did 
he  confess  an  immense  liking  for  Mrs.  Gaskell’s 
novel,  but,  as  we  have  seen,  he  scored  in  the  illus- 
tration of  it  the  first  of  his  great  successes  with  the 
general  public.  The  gift  of  illustration,  after  all,  is 
a very  rare  one.  Nothing  is  to  be  understood  more 
easily  than  the  value  the  public  began  to  put  upon 
du  Maurier’s  gift.  In  a response  of  that  sort  the 
public  display  true  discrimination.  The  ascendency 
of  du  Maurier  as  a Punch  artist  was  more  than 
anything  due  to  the  fact  that  for  his  work  in  that 
paper  he  drew  upon  the  sentiment  of  family  life 
from  the  resources  of  his  own  experience.  And 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


H7 


nothing  that  we  could  write  here  would  so  entirely 
reveal  the  happy  character  of  his  own  family  life 
as  the  reigning  atmosphere  of  the  “seaside”  and 
“nursery”  pictures  which  he  contributed  to  Punch . 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


148 


§7 

Many  people  remembering  du  Maurier’s  satires 
entertained  a little  fear  of  him  in  Society,  and  of 
what  he  might  be  thinking  about  them.  An  instance 
of  this  was  shown  on  one  occasion  when  he  was 
dining  alone  with  Sir  John  Millais  at  the  latter’s 
splendid  residence.  “ I suppose,”  said  Millais, 
waving  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  disappearing 
flunkeys  after  dinner,  “ you  think  all  this  very  Sir 
Gorgius  Midas-y  ? To  me  it  is  merely  respectable.” 
As  a matter  of  fact  there  is  everything  to  show  that 
du  Maurier  entertained  the  same  sort  of  notions  of 
“ respectability  ” as  his  host,  though  he  did  things 
on  a less  magnificent  scale.  By  temperament  he 
was  not  quite  a Bohemian,  although  he  was  con- 
vivial. It  was  the  convivial  side  of  the  weekly 
Punch  dinner  that  appealed  to  him.  He  abstained 
from  these  meetings,  or  came  in  late,  when  a ten- 
dency prevailed  to  make  them  too  much,  as  he 
thought,  the  pretext  of  business.  He  was  regarded 
as  singular  in  ordering  an  immense  cup  of  tea  to  be 
put  before  him  immediately  after  dinner.  He  sat 
over  his  cup  of  tea  with  a bent  back,  always  with 


The  Mutual  Admirationists 


(Fragments  overheard  by  Grigsby  and  the  Colonel  at  one 
of  Prigsby’s  Afternoon  Teas.) 

YouHg  Maudle  (to  Mrs . Lyon  Hunter  and  her  Daughters).  “In  the 
supremest  Poetry,  Shakespeare’s  for  instance,  or  Postlethwaite’s, 
or  Shelley’s  one  always  feels  that,”  &c.,  &c.,  &c. 

Young  Postlethwaite  (to  the  three  Miss  Bilderhogies).  “ The  greatest 
Painters  of  All,  such  as  Velasquez,  or  Maudle,  or  even  Titian, 
invariably  suggest  to  one,”  &c.,  &c.,  &c. 

Punchy 

'May  22,  1880. 


GEORGE  DU  MAURI  EH 


■§7 


•mcmbering  du  Maurier’s  satires 
, ;„fear  ofrhim  in  Sfiicicfcv,  und  of 


instance 


-r1  vdi  ni*>  a w^w<«4i  xntk 

/aiicwdislteo4?  to  ,T«ei<iii  -®8  rimPv6*eM  ,fw»ppeaiwig« 

i orf*4hM  w'mnp  vh^/?° 

,nsitf*F  fray#  iq  <9tf>4i?MrB>  ^up^p^tbiri^atpaAbwtiBi^ 
c ’ . certrif nc# f rrT&e^SSrt1  ^W8tlfete5R<f 1 
” a:  his  hos^^qough  ie  did  things 
gnificcnt  S£$}gf  <s:sB^\^mperament  he 

' 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


149 

a cigarette,  fuming  whilst  the  business  part  of  the 
proceedings  went  forward.  When  that  was  over  he 
entered  into  his  own,  regaling  his  comrades  with 
droll  stories,  creating  a witty  atmosphere  at  his  own 
corner  by  his  taste  for  repartee. 

The  difficulties  with  his  sight  might  well  have 
been  expected  to  poison  the  artist’s  well  of  happiness. 
But  it  was  noticed  of  Charles  Lamb  that  the  very 
fact  of  possessing  the  little  pleasures  of  everyday  life 
only  under  a lease,  as  it  were,  which  Fate  at  any 
moment  might  refuse  to  renew,  caused  him  to  be 
the  very  poet  of  such  pleasures,  experiencing  them 
with  an  acuteness  that  became  to  him  an  inspiration. 
With  du  Maurier  the  enjoyment  of  social  life,  so 
manifestly  evident  in  his  art  at  one  time,  may  well 
have  been  entered  into  with  something  of  the  fierce 
delight  with  which  we  take  our  sunshine  in  a rainy 
summer.  In  later  years  he  became  home-staying  in 
his  habits.  One  imagines  he  felt  that  he  had  taken 
from  Society  all  that  it  had  to  give  him — the  know- 
ledge of  life  necessary  to  him  in  his  work,  and  friends 
in  sufficient  number.  It  is  from  about  this  time  that 
his  art  shows  evidence  that  an  intimate  contact  with 
the  social  movement  was  no  longer  sustained.  The 
tendency  to  repeat  himself,  to  produce  his  weekly 


150  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

picture  by  a sort  of  formula,  becomes  noticeable  ; and 
the  absence  of  variety  in  his  work  becomes  oppressive. 

Du  Maurier  was  a man  of  great  natural  ver- 
satility. For  some  reason  or  other  he  was  not 
fond  of  the  theatre,  but  he  was  in  possession  of  a 
considerable  genius  for  monodrama,  and  often  de- 
lighted his  friends  by  his  impersonations.  We  have 
seen  that  it  was  once  within  the  bounds  of  possibility 
that  he  would  have  become  a professional  singer. 
His  conversational  gifts  were  great.  He  was  a 
writer  of  singular  picturesqueness.  A consider- 
able interest  in  the  progress  of  science  was  noted  in 
him  to  the  last.  If  we  look  back  at  the  record  of 
the  lives  of  artists  to  find  what  manner  of  men  as 
a rule  they  were,  we  shall  find  that,  in  contradistinc- 
tion to  poets  and  musicians,  they  were  pre-eminent 
as  men  of  the  world.  Skill  in  plastic  art  seems  a 
final  gift  imparted  to  men  very  highly  constituted. 
It  steals  them  entirely  away  from  other  aims,  but 
exists  side  by  side  with,  while  yet  it  transcends  the 
ability  to  achieve  remarkable  performances  in  dis- 
similar directions.  Perhaps  it  is  because,  of  all  men, 
the  true  artist  regards  the  material  world  with  the 
clearest  vision,  living  in  no  world  of  dreams,  finding 
reality  itself  so  delightful. 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


151 

The  artist  never  at  any  stage  of  his  life  lost  the 
rollicking  spirit  of  a boy.  It  broke  out  in  conversation 
and  in  his  letters.  In  narration  he  reserved  the  right  of 
every  raconteur  to  make  a point  by  some  exaggeration. 
In  letters  of  his  that  I have  seen  the  note  of  high 
spirits  may  be  said  to  be  the  prevailing  one. 

For  instance,  to  the  head  of  the  Punch  Firm, 
after  a Punch  dinner  : 

“ Jan . 14. 

“Would  you  allow  one  of  your  retainers  to  look 
under  the  table  and  see  if  I left  a golosh  there — and 
if  so,  tell  him  to  leave  it  at  Swain’s,  to  be  returned 
by  his  messenger  on  Monday?  I must  have  been 
tight,  and  the  golosh  not  tight  enough,  and  I 
appeared  at  the  Duchess’s  with  one  golosh  and  my 
trousers  tucked  up.  H.R.H.  was  much  concerned 
about  it,  and  said,  c It’s  all  that Punch  dinner !’” 

To  the  same  : 

“ I’m  on  for  the  25th  at  the  Albion  and  much 
delighted.  Is  it  evening  dress  ? If  not,  tip  us  a card. 
If  you  do  not  I shall  conclude  it  is,  and  appear  in 
full  togs,  which  I will  get  out  for  the  evening. 


<5> 


OOO 

(Attenborough) 


*5* 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


“ I had  really  hoped  to  have  got  down  to 
Bouverie  Street  yesterday,  but  the  conviction  forced 
itself  on  me  as  the  day  wore  on  that  I should  never 
get  a cab  to  bring  me  back.  I know  I am  a back- 
slider in  the  matter  of  the  Punch  dinner  (and  all 
other  dinners  when  I can  help  it).  I can  get  thro’ 
my  work  so  much  better  after  the  frugal  home 
repast,  and  in  bed  before  1 1 p.m.  Not  that  I have 
been  able  to  indulge  in  the  early  couch  these  holi- 
days, for  Hampstead,  slow  as  it  is,  is  a fearful  place 
for  juvenile  dissipation,  and  parents  have  to  sit  up 
night  after  night  at  Xmas  time.  I hope  you 
Wandsworthians  have  more  sense.” 

In  an  earlier  stage  of  the  book  we  fixed  the 
period  at  which  du  Maurier’s  work  in  Punch  was 
at  the  height  of  its  vitality  at  about  1879 — and  on 
into  the  early  “ eighties.”  And  the  artist  himself 
seems  to  have  had  a strong  feeling  of  increasing 
power  at  this  time.  In  January  1880  he  approached 
Punch  for  a revision  of  the  prices  at  which  he 
was  then  working.  By  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  W. 
Laurence  Bradbury  I am  able  to  quote  in  part 
from  letters  bearing  out  the  inference  that  it  was 
at  this  time  that  du  Maurier  entered  into  con- 
sciousness of  his  own  worth  : 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


*53 


“Jan.  I,  1880. 

“ Dear  Bradbury,  Agnew,  & Co., — The  time 
has  come  when  I think  I may  fairly  ask  you  to 
make  an  increase  in  my  salary. 

“ The  quality  of  my  work  has  greatly  improved 
of  late  years  and  my  popularity  has  grown  in 
proportion,  and  these  results  have  been  obtained  at 
great  expense  of  thought  and  labour,  and  I find  as 
a rule  that  the  more  time  I devote  to  each  pro- 
duction, the  more  favour  it  meets  with  from  the 
public. 

“ It  is  now  a good  many  years  (seven  or  eight  I 
believe)  since  you  were  kind  enough  at  my  request 
to  raise  the  payment  of  the  quarter  page.  . . . 

“ Since  that  period  I have  gradually  become 
enabled  thro’  the  improvement  in  my  health  to 
give  much  more  of  my  time  to  my  Punch  work 
— all  the  drawings  selected  by  you  for  ‘ English 
Society  at  Home  ’ have  been  done  since  then — and 
whatever  other  qualities  they  may  possess,  they  are 
very  careful  and  elaborate  in  most  instances,  and 
without  this  care  and  elaboration  they  would  lose 
most  of  their  value  in  the  world’s  eye.  . . .” 

Then  follows  details  as  to  the  revision  of  the 


J54 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


prices.  And  then  a day  or  two  later  he  sends  the 
following  letter  : 

“Jan.  4,  1880. 

“ My  dear  Bradbury, — Many  thanks  for  your 
kind  note.  It  is  really  a painful  effort  to  me  to  c ask 
for  more,’  and  IVe  been  putting  it  off  from  day  to 
day  these  six  months.  The  pleasure  and  enthusiasm 
with  which  I have  got  to  do  my  work  for  Punch 
(since  I have  got  better  in  health  and  so  forth) 
are  such  that  I should  be  content  to  go  on  so  for 
ever,  without  any  rise,  if  it  weren’t  for  my  having 
such  a deuce  of  a family  ! but  what’s  a fellow 
to  do  ! 

“You’ve  no  idea  what  it  is  to  go  trapesing  up 
and  down,  hunting  for  a subject,  while  all  the  time 
the  hand  remains  idle . Punch  requires  such  a lot  of 
thought,  you  see — and  then  when  the  time  comes 
for  the  hand  to  do  its  work,  you  can  see  what  care 
and  time  are  taken  with  the  execution.  . . . 

“ I only  wish  it  would  suit  the  convenience  of 
Punch  to  take  all  the  work  I could  send  on  a 
scale  of  prices  literally  fixed  by  myself ! (ye  modern 
Hogarth  ! ! 10,000,000  a year  ! R.A. — P.R.A. — 
Sir  George  ! ! ! ” 

At  the  foot  of  this  letter  is  a thumb-nail  picture 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


1 55 


of  “ Chang,”  du  Maurier’s  huge  Newfoundland,  lead- 
ing a blind  man,  initialled  D.M.  The  dog  holds  a 
tin  and  begs  from  a passing  fine  lady,  a well-known 
beauty  of  Society  and  the  Stage,  and  the  legend 
“ Sic  transit  Gloria  Mundi”  describes  the  situation. 


156 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


§ 8 

The  above  letters  were  dated  from  New  Grove 
House,  Hampstead,  where  the  du  Mauriers  lived 
for  twenty-one  years.  They  had  moved  into  this 
house  from  Church  Row,  where  they  had  gone 
when  they  first  came  to  Hampstead,  and  where 
their  eldest  son  was  born.  During  the  period  of 
their  long  residence  in  New  Grove  House  they 
frequently  took  a furnished  house  for  the  winter 
season  in  Town  for  the  convenience  of  going  into 
Society.  It  was  the  inaccessibility  of  Hampstead 
before  the  days  of  the  Hampstead  Tube  that  made 
du  Maurier  latterly  relinquish  many  social  engage- 
ments, and  developed  the  disinclination  for  theatre- 
going which  I have  seen  ascribed  to  an  aversion 
from  the  drama. 

Sir  Frederick  Wedmore  says  that  it  was  at 
Hampstead  evening  parties  that  du  Maurier  found 
his  type  of  the  Adonis  up-to-date.  Alas,  that  even 
by  Sir  Frederick  Wedmore  the  type  should  be  re- 
garded as  salient  of  du  Maurier’s  pictures.  It  is 
further  evidence  that  the  artist  is  only  remembered 
by  his  later  pictures.  It  is  in  these  the  type 


Manuscript  of'  “ Nocturne  ” 

Sun  of  the  Sleepless — Melancholy  Star  ! ” — Byron. 

Translated  into  French  by  George  du  Maurier, 

The  English  Illustrated  Magazine, 

September  13,  1886. 


GEORGE  DU  V ' K. 


The  above  rers  were  dated  from  New  Grove 
;e,  Har;  cad,  where  the  du  Mauriers  lived 
twer  years.  They  had  moved  into  this 

C hurch  Row,  where  they  had  gone 
icv  first  canib9{fauiilfrff>sioadqhtnAn«Nlere 

frequer  took 

■ w i i fpr  < vHwiswai^  into 

j h ih*  ; stead 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


l57 

monotonously  appears.  But  we  feel  better  disposed 
towards  Hampstead  when  the  eminent  critic  adds 
that  Church  Row  itself  gave  du  Maurier  more 
than  one  of  the  models  in  whom  one  recognises 
his  ideal  of  youthful  feminine  charm. 

Du  Maurier’s  tastes  were  very  quiet.  His  in- 
terests were  centred  in  his  home,  and  he  found  no 
companionship  more  acceptable  than  that  of  his 
own  children.  He  was  not  at  all  fond  of  being 
alone.  He  preferred  even  to  work  with  people 
round  him  ; writing  his  novels  in  the  drawing- 
room standing  with  the  MS.  upon  the  top  of  the 
piano,  and  walking  up  and  down  undisturbed  by 
the  conversation  of  his  family  round  him.  It  caused 
him  no  annoyance  when  members  of  his  family 
broke  into  his  studio  during  working  hours.  His 
work  both  as  draughtsman  and  writer  was  always 
produced  without  any  of  that  pathetic  travail  which 
for  many  artists  and  writers  lies  between  concep- 
tion and  expression.  He  did  not  exhibit  the  most 
unpleasant  of  the  traits  of  a talented  person — the 
overstrung  condition  of  nerves  which  makes  a man 
unpleasant  to  a household  ; he  preserved  the  serenity 
that  pertains  to  greater  genius  still.  His  house 
was  always  an  open  one,  and  the  life  in  it  must 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


158 

have  been  highly  typical  of  that  English  family 
life  of  which  he  was  the  pre-eminent  poet  in  his 
drawings. 

Du  Maurier  was  elected  a member  of  the 
Athenaeum  Club  under  Rule  2.  He  showed  his 
appreciation  of  this  Club  by  not  making  use  of  any 
other,  though  he  was  such  a highly  sociable  man. 
He  was  early  a member  of  the  Arts  Club,  though 
using  it  less  frequently  after  its  removal  to  the 
Dover  Street  house,  of  old-world  distinction.  At 
the  Athenaeum  he  frequented  the  billiard-room  as 
a sociable  place,  though  he  was  not  very  fond  of 
billiards  or  card  games.  He  could  get  on  quite 
well  in  life  upon  “ conversation  ” as  a recreation, 
interspersed  with  music. 

After  the  great  Trilby  boom,  and  when  he  was 
writing  The  Martian — in  fact,  only  a year  before  his 
death,  the  artist  moved  into  town  to  live  in  Oxford 
Square.  He  was  partly  influenced  in  this  by  the 
expiration  of  the  twenty-one  years’  lease  upon  which 
he  held  the  Hampstead  property. 

In  a paper  contributed  to  the  Hampstead  Annual 
for  1897,  t^e  issue  following  the  artist’s  death, 
Canon  Ainger  traced  various  Hampstead  spots  to 
be  identified  as  the  backgrounds  of  du  Maurier’s 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


x59 


subjects,  and  recalls  how  on  Hampstead  Heath 
many  subjects  for  Punch  came  to  be  discussed 
between  them  in  the  course  of  conversation.  He 
describes  the  way  that  one  of  the  artist’s  most 
famous  jests,  in  the  days  of  Maudle  and  Postleth- 
waite,  took  its  final  shape  one  day  in  Hampstead, 
and  by  a singular  chance  arose  out  of  a University 
sermon  at  Cambridge. 

A certain  well-known  humorist  of  the  time 
had  remarked  that  the  objection  to  Blue  China  (it 
was  the  special  craze  at  the  moment)  was  that  it 
was  so  difficult  to  “live  up  to  it.”  This  utterance 
had  been  lately  taken  somewhat  over-seriously  by  a 
special  preacher  before  the  University  who,  dis- 
coursing on  the  growing  extravagances  and  frivolities 
of  the  age,  wound  up  an  indignant  tirade  by  an 
eloquent  peroration  to  the  effect  that  things  had 
come  to  a sad  pass  when  persons  were  found  to 
talk  of  “ living  up — to  a Tea-pot.”  At  this  juncture 
the  jest  seemed  ripe  for  treatment,  and  du  Maurier 
thereupon  produced  his  famous  drawing  of  the 
aesthetic  bride  and  bridegroom  comparing  notes 
over  the  precious  piece  of  crockery  in  question  : 
“ Oh  ! Algernon  ! Let  us  live  up  to  it  ! ” 

Speaking  of  fifteen  years  of  constant  companion- 


160  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

ship  in  walks  upon  the  Heath,  the  Canon  says  no 
one  could  have  had  a better  opportunity  of  tasting 
the  unfailing  charm  of  du  Maurier’s  conversation, 
the  width  of  his  reading  and  observation,  and  his 
inexhaustible  fund  of  anecdote.  In  these  conversa- 
tions Canon  Ainger  heard  every  detail  of  his  com- 
panion’s school  life,  his  studio-life  in  Paris,  which 
afterwards  found  a place  in  the  pages  of  his  three 
novels. 

Referring  to  the  long  years  of  uninterrupted 
achievement  of  the  artist’s  life  at  Hampstead,  “ only 
once,”  says  his  friend,  “ in  all  the  years  I knew  him 
was  he  forced  to  lay  his  pencil  by  for  a season.  His 
solitary  eye  had  temporarily  failed  him,  but,  with 
spirits  unsubdued,  he  promptly  took  up  the  art  of 
lecturer  with  marked  success,  although  from  the 
first  it  was  against  the  grain.  When,  however,  after 
an  interval  his  sight  returned  to  him,  and  the  literary 
instinct,  encouraged  doubtless  by  the  success  of  his 
lectures,  began  to  quicken,  he  gained,  we  all  know, 
though  then  past  fifty  years  of  age,  a new  public 
and  a new  career  in  writing  fiction.”  “ Except,” 
proceeds  Canon  Ainger,  “ to  his  intimate  friends 
and  to  his  colleagues  on  Punch  the  display  of  this 
gift  was  an  absolute  surprise.  . . . He  wrote  with 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


1 6 1 


extraordinary  and  even  dangerous  facility.  It  is 
fair,  however,  to  add  that  his  best  passages  were  often 
produced  as  rapidly  as  all  the  rest.  For  instance, 
the  scene  in  ^Trilby  when  the  mother  and  uncle  of 
Little  Billee  arrive  in  Paris,  hearing  of  the  engage- 
ment, and  have  their  first  interview  with  Taffy,  was 
written  straight  off  one  evening  between  dinner  and 
bed-time.”  This  scene,  in  the  judgment  of  Ainger, 
represents  du  Maurier  at  his  high-water  mark  as 
a novelist  and  as  a worthy  follower  of  the  great 
master  on  whom  his  style  was  undoubtedly  based. 

“Hampstead,”  continues  the  Canon,  “was  a 
real  foster-mother  to  George  du  Maurier,  not  only 
in  what  it  brought  him  but  in  what  it  saved  him 
from.  He  was  by  nature  and  by  practice  one 
of  the  most  generous  and  hospitable  of  men.  He 
loved  to  entertain  his  friends  from  town,  and  to 
take  them  afterwards  his  favourite  walks.  But  he 
disliked  dinners  and  evening  parties  in  London,  not 
because  he  was  unsociable,  but  because  good  dinners 
and  long  journeys  4 took  it  out  of  him  ’ and  en- 
dangered the  task  of  the  following  morning.  The 
distance  from  town  and  the  long  hills  made  late 
hours  inevitable.  To  listen  to  some  new  book  read 
aloud  in  the  studio,  which  was  also  the  common 

L 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


162 

sitting-room  of  wife  and  children,  made  the  chief 
happiness  of  his  evening.” 

“ We  owed  it,”  says  his  friend,  “ to  Hampstead 
air  with  its  many  sylvan  beauties  that  du  Maurier 
was  able  for  so  long,  notwithstanding  defective  sight 
and  health  gradually  failing,  to  prosecute  his  daily 
work  with  scarce  an  interruption.” 

The  link  between  the  place  and  the  work  pro- 
duced in  it  is  in  the  case  of  du  Maurier,  apart  from 
the  fact  that  Hampstead  scenes  so  frequently  recur 
in  his  pictures,  anything  but  a superficial  one. 
“Hampstead,”  the  artist  wrote,  “is  healthy  but 
dull.”  It  was  the  very  monotony  of  the  place,  the 
even  conditions  under  which  it  was  possible  to  work 
there  in  his  day — when  it  was  farther  away  than  it 
is  in  the  present  age  of  “ tubes  ” — that  assisted  the 
building  up  of  the  remarkable  record  in  Punch — the 
indispensable  contribution  made  every  week  by  du 
Maurier  to  the  journalism  which,  in  the  days  when 
the  fashionable  world  counted  several  influential  jour- 
nals devoted  to  itself,  placed  Punch  in  its  unique  posi- 
tion among  them.  Society  reserved  quite  a touching 
deference  for  the  opinions  of  Mr.  Punch.  It  gives 
us  some  idea  of  the  position  into  which  the  paper 
had  worked  itself  a generation  ago  when  we  find 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST  163 

Ruskin,  the  greatest  social  critic  of  his  day,  going 
straight  to  it  for  an  authoritative  picture  of  the 
time.  People  have  not  sufficiently  remembered  how 
often  when  they  have  referred  to  Punch  they  were 
really  referring  to  du  Maurier,  or  what  is  left  now 
of  his  tradition — his  way  of  dealing  with  the  foibles 
of  society.  The  position  of  the  paper  in  Society 
was  won  by  appositeness  of  political  criticism,  and 
the  delicate  edge  of  its  satire.  It  was  du  Maurier 
who  put  that  edge  on.  Society  returned  fascinated 
after  every  wound  to  inspect  the  weapon.  Keene’s 
pen  brought  immense  artistic  prestige  to  Punchy  but 
its  social  prestige  it  owes  to  du  Maurier  more  than 
to  anyone  ; we  only  become  aware  that  Leech  had 
begun  a tradition  in  its  pages  by  its  supreme  fulfil- 
ment in  du  Maurier’s  art. 


§9 

Henry  Silver,  a member  of  the  Punch  staff,  who 
came  to  the  table  in  1858,  kept  a diary  of  the  talk 
of  the  table  until  he  retired  in  1870.  The  present 
writer  was  the  more  touched  by  the  honour  of 
being  permitted  to  look  into  this  interesting  docu- 
ment from  the  fact  that  the  pen  of  the  exquisite 


164  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

E.  V.  Lucas  has  but  lately  inspired  itself  at  the 
same  source.  This  was  for  a paper  of  Thackerayana 
which  concluded,  after  reference  to  the  death  of 
Leech,  Thackeray’s  friend  : “ On  November  7th 
(1864)  Leech’s  successor,  George  du  Maurier,  took 
his  seat  at  the  Table,  and  so  the  world  goes  on.” 

Thackeray  bulks  more  largely  in  the  diary  than 
even  du  Maurier,  for  du  Maurier’s  genius  in  the 
table  conversation  was  wholly  for  asides.  We  have 
already  mentioned  his  comparative  lack  of  interest 
in  the  debates  over  the  large  cartoon.  And  this 
Silver  himself  draws  attention  to  : “ Du  M.  and 
H.  S.  generally  mute  when  the  ‘ L.  C.  ’ is  discussed.” 
The  conversation  at  each  meeting  is  for  some  time 
closely  confined  to  the  discussion  of  the  cartoon, 
then  it  spreads  to  every  imaginable  topic.  One  feels 
that  one  assists  at  the  making  of  history  when  the 
Great  Cartoon,  or  Cut,  as  they  called  it,  is  discussed 
— as,  for  instance,  when  the  design  for  the  one 
representing  Disraeli  on  the  side  of  the  Angels  is 
decided  upon,  after  his  famous  speech  at  Oxford  in 
1864.  The  desultory  conversation  reported  in  the 
diary  on  each  occasion  after  settlement  of  the 
cartoon  throws  a light  upon  things  uppermost  in 
the  public  mind  at  the  time.  It  is  noted  when 


George  du  Maurier 


From  a photograph. 


USE  DU  MA 

hai-  ; t the. 

Thb  v a f-  ■ a paper  of  Thackerayana 
concluded,  after  reference  to  the  death  of 
, Thackeray's  friend  : “ On  November  7th 
4)  Leech’s  uccessor,  George  du  Maurier,  took 
eat  at  the  Table,  and  so  the  world  goes  on.” 
Thackeray  bulks  more  largely  in  the  diary  than 
iurier,  for  du  'Maurier ’s  genius  in  the 
table  conversation  was  wholly  for  asides.  We  have 
dy  mentioned  his  38'4&?Qf  inter' 

.rlqjrfgoJonq  n moil 

tsel:  oraws  attention  to:  “Du  M.  and 
nversation  at  each  meeting  is  for  some  time 

: 

that  one  assists  at  *the  making  of  history  when  the 
reat  Cartoon,  or  Cut,  as  they  called  it,  is  discussed 
-as,  for  instance*  when  the  design  for  the  one 

The  desultory  conversation  reported  in  the 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST  165 

the  Queen  comes  out  of  retirement  into  the 
world  again.  And  a vivid  reflection  is  to  be  found 
of  the  horror  felt  at  the  news  of  the  assassina- 
tion of  Lincoln.  Men  as  closely  united  as  the 
Punch  staff  have  prejudices  as  clearly  defined  as 
those  of  an  individual.  There  was  great  hostility 
to  the  Swinburne  of  the  sixties.  Du  Maurier  on 
one  occasion  sticks  up  for  Swinburne  as  “ the  writer 
of  lovely  verses — the  weaver  of  words — the  rhymer 
of  rhymes.”  “ Du  M.  and  H.  S.  agree  in  thinking 
Tennyson  will  live  c chiefly  by  his  songs  and  minor 
lays.’” 

“ Du  M.  thinks  Vanity  Fair  a little  Bible,”  “ Rather 
an  epistle  by  the  Corinthians,”  says  Shirley  Brooks. 

One  night  after  dinner  du  Maurier  walked  home 
in  the  wet.  “ My  carriage  is  waiting  for  Silver,”  he 
said.  “ My  carriage  is  waiting  for  gold,”  answered 
Shirley  Brooks. 

Sometimes  the  discourse  at  the  table  is  of  Re- 
ligion. “ Du  M.  believes  in  God,  and  that  whatever 
we  do  God  will  not  punish  us.” 

“ A comfortable  faith,”  adds  Silver. 

Once  the  discussion  turned  upon  suicide.  “ Du 
M.  says  before  he  married  he  often  felt  tempted  to 
suicide.” 


1 66 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


In  heading  his  diary  shortly  after  du  Maurier 
joined  the  table,  Silver  writes  “ Du  M.”  and  then 
corrects  it  “ (no : du  M.).”  And  in  another  place 
he  writes,  “ Du  Maurier  says  fellows  write  to  him 
de  Maurier  : 6 give  the  devil  his  du/  ” 

In  1865  the  proprietors,  getting  old,  have  put 
their  sons  in  their  stead,  and  taken  the  Agnews  into 
partnership.  The  staff  talk  sentimentally  of  old 
times.  They  drink  success  to  the  Firm.  Mark 
Lemon,  the  Editor,  proposes  the  health  of  Brad- 
bury & Evans,  saying,  “ men  work  well  together 
because  they  are  liberally  treated.  Thought  our 
loss  last  year  (death  of  Leech)  would  have  seriously 
affected  Punchy  but  it  did  not.  And  no  single  loss 
will.”  Bradbury,  replying,  speaks  of  the  brotherly 
affection  between  the  editor  and  the  proprietors. 
“ Says  if  you  want  men  to  serve  you  well  treat 
them  well,  and  win  their  sympathy  and  esteem. 

. . . Evans  is  emphatic  on  the  Brotherhood  of  the 
Punch  table/’  Thackeray’s  “Mahogany  Tree”  is 
sung ; du  Maurier  sings  a French  song,  and  F.  C.  B. 
also  singeth  a song  with  no  words  to  speak  of,  &c. 
&c.  &c.  “ So  we  pass  a jolly  evening,  and  bear  in 

mind — that  Sociality  is  the  secret  of  the  success  of 
Punch” 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST  167 

On  another  occasion  there  is  the  paper’s  “ Silver 
Wedding.”  A watch  and  chain  with  eleven  links — 
the  mystic  number  of  the  Punch  staff — is  handed 
over  to  Mark  Lemon.  In  the  morning  he  has  re- 
ceived a letter  with  a hundred  guineas.  He  claims, 
in  replying,  “ that  the  Punch  Brotherhood  is  one 
of  the  most  extraordinary  literary  brotherhoods  the 
world  has  seen.” 

Shirley  Brooks  hands  him  letters  written  by  the 
staff  individually,  testifying  their  gladness  at  the 
gift  proposed.  Du  Maurier  wrote  the  longest  and 
Charles  Keene  the  shortest. 

We  have  extracted  the  following  items  from  the 
diary,  quoting  exactly,  except  for  the  substitution 
sometimes  of  the  full  name  for  initials  : 

November  7th — Monday . “ S.  B.,  du  Maurier  (his 
debut),  H.  S.,  J.  T.,  M.  L.,  P.  L.,  F.  C.  B.,  H.  M.,  T.  T. 

“(The  initials  stand  for  Shirley  Brooks,  Henry 
Silver,  John  Tenniel,  Mark  Lemon,  Professor  Leigh, 
F.  C.  Burnand,  Horace  Mayhew,  Tom  Taylor.) 

“ Du  Maurier  tells  of  Whistler  and  Rossetti’s  rage 
for  old  china,  and  how  Rossetti  once  left  his  guests 
at  dinner  and  rushed  off  to  buy  a piece  before 
Whistler  could  forestall  him.” 

May  17,  1865.  “ Du  Maurier  was  presented  with 


1 68 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


a son  and  heir  on  Saturday,  so  we  baptized  the  infant 
in  a bumper  of  Champagne/’ 

December  20, 1865.  “ While  the  Great  Cut  is  being 
hatched,  Burnand,  du  Maurier,  and  Silver  all  make 
little  cuts  of  their  initials  on  the  Punch  table. 
Henry  Silver  between  William  Thackeray  and  John 
Leech — Burnand  where  a Beckett  sat  and  du 
Maurier  where  Leech.” 

“ Miss  Bateman  retired  from  the  stage  (at  Her 
Majesty’s)  on  Friday — she  has  rather  proved  herself 
a one-part  actress,  and  so  has  Sothern,  whom  Burnand 
denounces  as  a practical  joker — most  unscrupulous 
in  tongue.” 

“ Du  M.  thinks  it  harder  to  write  a poem  than 
to  paint  a picture.  But  surely  there’s  no  comparing 
them.  One  mind  expresses  itself  with  a pen  and 
another  with  a brush.” 

Jan.  1 7,  1866.  “Du  Maurier  tells  of  the  gas 
blow-up  at  his  91  Great  Russell  Street  on  Boxing-day. 
Girl  dressing  in  the  shop  for  Hairdressers’  Ball — 
turned  on  two  burners  and  lit  one  and  left  it  burning. 
Du  Maurier  and  wife  dressing  on  top  floor — bang  ! 
like  a hundred  pounder,  and  then  rattle — smash — 
crash.  ‘ O ! the  children  ! ’ ‘ D — n it  ! They’re 
all  right  ! ’ first  time  he  ever  swore  before  his  wife. 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST  169 

Sister  tried  to  jump  from  window,  but  Armstrong 
held  her  back.  Baby  crowing  in  his  arms  at  the 
fun  as  he  came  downstairs.  The  nursemaids  had 
run  away  of  course.  Lucky  no  one  on  the  stairs,  or 
they’d  have  been  killed.” 

April  4,  1866.  “ In  reference  to  a Ball  on  the 

Haymarket  stage — ‘ Would  you  like  to  go?’  said  S.  B. 
to  du  Maurier.  But  du  Maurier’s  dancing  days  are 
over — only  cares  for  dinners  now  ! Fancy  the  old 
fogydom  of  thirty  ! ” 

November  7,  1868.  “Du  Maurier  cut  down  to 
five  cigarettes  a day,  resolves  to  ride  daily  and  live 
frugally  : frightened  by  his  eye  this  summer  ! ! ” 
February  24,  1868.  “ Tenniel  has  almost  given 

up  smoking  ! Used  to  smoke  an  ounce  a day. 
Can  eat  a better  breakfast  now.  Nearly  all  our 
Punch  folk  smoke  less.  Tom  Taylor  has  given  up 
cigars  and  only  takes  a pipe  occasionally.  Du 
Maurier  takes  cigarettes  four  a day  in  lieu  of  forty. 
H.  S.  never  smokes  at  all  after  dinner.  Only  Keene 
and  Mark  and  Shirley  stick  to  their  tobacco.” 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


170 


§ 10 

Sir  Francis  Burnand,  till  recently  the  distinguished 
Editor  of  Punch , was  du  Maurier’s  senior  on  the 
paper  by  a year  or  two.  He  has  very  kindly  sent  the 
writer  the  following  impression  of  the  artist : “ That 
he  was  beloved  as  a cheery,  witty  confrere , goes  with- 
out saying.  Rarely  did  he  mix  himself  up  with 
politics  in  any  shape  or  form.  I doubt  if  he  ever 
gave  us  any  assistance  in  devising  a political  cartoon. 
What  his  politics  were  I am  unable  to  say,  and  I do 
not  think  he  troubled  himself  about  the  matter.  In 
c the  old  days  ’ he  delighted  in  chaffing  Horace 
Mayhew,  with  whom  he  exchanged  ‘ slang  ’ in 
French.  With  the  jovial  proprietor,  William  Brad- 
bury, he  was  always  on  the  best  of  terms  of  friendly 
nonsense,  being  invariably  his  left-hand  neighbour 
at  ‘The  Table.’  He  was  a genuine  Bohemian  of 
the  artistic  fraternity  (as  given  in  his  Trilby)  with 
the  true  polish  of  an  English  gentleman,  of  the 
kindest  disposition,  and  of  the  warmest  heart.  All 
who  knew  him  well  loved  him,  and  none  missed 
him  more  than  his  fellow-workers  on  Punch.” 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


I7I 

u His  religion,”  Sir  Francis  volunteered  in  a further 
note,  “ as  that  of  the  majority  of  his  French  con- 
freres., you  will  find  it  in  the  artistic  sketches  of  the 
men  and  women  in  ha  Boheme”  “ His  guardian 
angel,  humanly  and  socially,  was  his  wife.” 

Everyone  who  knew  du  Maurier  now  speaks 
of  his  attractiveness  and  the  simplicity  and  honesty 
of  his  nature.  He  was  not  really  very  fond  of 
“ Society  ” because  of  its  code  of  insincerity.  He 
was  its  satirist  for  the  same  reason  that,  much  as 
he  liked  “ to  be  with  people,”  he  was  not  at-home 
where  manners  were  affected.  The  Victorians 
who  survive  to  this  day  hold  up  their  hands  in 
horror  at  present-day  manners  ; they  object  to  our 
natural,  comfortable  ways  and  clothes  ; they  define 
our  naturalness  as  laziness.  But  just  because  it  is 
so  constitutional  to  be  lazy,  the  casual  modern 

manners,  so  true  to  the  exact  shade  of  our  en- 

thusiasm for,  or  indifference  to  any  particular  person 
or  thing,  express  our  virtue.  We  are  too  honest 
to  pretend.  We  look  back  with  amusement  to 
the  Victorians,  who  put  all  their  goods  in  the  shop 
window,  whose  very  movements  were  so  far 

without  freedom  as  to  be  subservient  to  the 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


172 

maintenance  of  uncreascd  clothing.  A regard  for 
“ appearances  ” seemed  to  regulate  action.  It  was 
an  age  of  poseurs — the  age  of  the  “ professional 
air.”  In  that  age  came  into  use  among  doctors 
“ the  bedside  manner.”  Shop-walkers  then  dis- 
tinguished themselves  from  the  rest  of  the  race 
by  their  preposterous  antics,  artists  endured  the 
misery  of  velvet  jackets  ; women  tight-laced,  men 
about  town  invented  the  crease  in  the  trouser-leg 
to  keep  which  in  order  alone  demands  the  fealty 
of  a lifetime.  In  summer  men  consented  to  be 
roasted  alive  on  the  London  pavement  rather  than 
part  with  the  frock-coat  in  which  their  depraved 
conception  of  beauty  delighted.  In  those  days 
one  imagines  people  were  only  comfortable  when 
once  safely  in  bed,  and  that  was  never  for  long  at 
a time  ; for  the  sake  of  appearances  the  Victorians 
got  up  early. 

The  Royal  Academy  Exhibitions  of  the  time 
proved  that  it  was  impossible  for  a Victorian  to  be 
an  artist.  The  artists  of  the  time  did  not  belong 
to  their  own  age.  We  had  Rossetti  ever  seeking 
to  lose  himself  in  the  illusion  of  another  time  and 
country,  and  Whistler  trying  to  find  himself  in  the 


Speed  the  Parting  Guest 

(Things  one  would  rather  have  left  unsaid.) 


“We’ve  had  such  a pleasant  evening,  Mr.  Jones!  May  I beg  of 
you  to  ask  one  of  your  servants  to  call  a Hansom  ? ” 

“ With  pleasure , Mrs.  Smith  ! ” 

Punch , 

March  10,  1883. 


seemed  to  regulate  action.  It  was 


age  came  into  use  among  doctors 


inner/’  Shop-walkers  then  dis- 
Jr^i>0  fgr-tilijsflv-  odt  bssx^S  the  race 

the 

h i faced; 


men 


kets ; women  tig 

to  soil  I J *anrf  .ilfi  ,%iUWJ  ifUM, Iq  a rf^e.bwt  0S0W  » 

l?li  rfimfi  .eiM  w 

the  Londo^p^vement  rather  than 

heir  depraved 

epti-  mty  delighted.  In  those  days 

>!e  were  only  comfortable  when 
bed*  and  that  was  never  for  long  at 

The  artists  of  the  time  did  not  belong 
rl  in  the  illusion  of  another  time  and 





LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


*73 

reality  of  another  place.  Chelsea  was  well  out- 
side of  Victorian  London.  Perhaps  Hampstead, 
a place  like  Chelsea,  that  belongs  to  no  par- 
ticular time,  was  outside  of  it  too.  Kensington 
and  Bayswater  are  Victorian  to  this  day.  Rossetti 
in  Kensington  is  a vision  from  which  imagination 
recoils,  Whistler  in  Bayswater  one  which  passes 
the  invention  of  human  fancy.  Du  Maurier 
liked  to  come  into  Victorian  London  in  a 
carriage  from  a distance,  as  a visitor,  to  be 
driven  away  again.  He  approached  its  society 
critically.  He  acknowledged  the  distinction  of  its 
grave  self-consciousness  while  exposing  its  ridicu- 
lous airs. 

Just  as  Chelsea  is  a more  desirable  place  to  live 
in  because  of  its  “ Rossetti  99  associations,  so  Hamp- 
stead gains  from  the  memory  of  the  witty  and 
generous  satirist  who  made  it  his  home.  New 
Grove  House,  where  du  Maurier  lived  for  over 
twenty  years,  might  have  been  designed  for  him  ; it 
escapes  the  suburban  style  that  would  have  been  an 
affliction  to  one  so  romantic. 

Nearly  all  artists  who  have  sustained  their 


*74 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


powers  in  a refined  field  of  expression  have  been 
glad  to  count  upon  monotony  in  the  passage  of 
their  days.  The  adventurous  temperament  is  not 
the  artistic  one.  The  artist  values  security  from 
interruptions  above  everything,  and  interruption  is 
of  the  essence  of  adventure.  Du  Maurier  lived  a 
life  that  was  for  an  artist  characteristic.  He  was 
at  pains  to  preserve  his  days  from  being  broken 
into.  It  is  above  the  plane  where  human  life  is 
open  to  crude  forms  of  calamity  and  the  stress  of 
elemental  passion,  upon  a plane  where  freedom 
from  anxiety  is  secure  that  art  is  able  to  exert 
itself  in  attaining  to  the  expression  of  the  more 
valuable,  because  more  intimate,  experiences  of  human 
nature. 

Du  Maurier  died  on  the  8th  October  1896. 
His  grave  at  Hampstead  is  singularly  happily 
placed  and  constructed.  It  consists  of  two  carved 
wood  crosses,  respectively  at  head  and  foot,  con- 
nected by  a panel  containing,  in  addition  to  the 
name  and  dates,  only  the  concluding  lines  of 
'Trilby  : — 

“ A little  trust  that  when  we  die 
We  reap  our  sowing  ! And  so — good-bye  ! ” 


LIFE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


l75 

The  grave  is  close  to  the  pavement,  and  it  is 
impossible  to  go  that  way  without  seeing  it.  We 
can  imagine  that  one  who  was  so  entirely  the 
opposite  of  misanthropic  would  wish  to  lie  like  this 
within  sound  of  passing  conversation. 


V 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS 

§1 

It  may  be  well  to  touch  upon  some  of  the  character- 
istics of  our  illustrations  in  detail  before  closing  this 
book.  Many  of  them  are  so  obviously  involved  in 
what  has  already  been  said  here  of  the  artist’s  work 
that  we  do  not  propose  to  mention  them  again  ; but 
others  suggest  remarks  which  would  not  have  in- 
corporated easily  in  the  attempt  we  have  made  to 
demonstrate  the  significance  of  du  Maurier’s  art  in 
general. 

Taken  in  the  order  in  which  they  are  printed 
here,  the  first  illustrations  show  the  range  of  effect 
and  variety  of  line  which  the  artist  was  after- 
wards to  narrow  into  the  conventions  by  which 
he  is  now  chiefly  remembered.  But  if  such  an 
effect  as  that  in  the  picture  Caution , for  in- 
stance, would  not  have  been  possible  with  him  in 
his  last  period,  it  was  because  the  nature  of  the 

176 


Sketch  for  Initial  Letter  in  “The  Cornhill” 

October , 1883. 


V 


T»  ILLUSTRATIONS 


' (firhrioO  arilidtx  fnpoajjaftiidfiifitli; 

rions  • - ta^ before  Closing  this  • 

■ 

. 

lemonstrai  significance  of  du  Maurier’s  art  in 

Taken 

line  which  the  artist  was  after- 
the  picture  Caution , for 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


I?? 


subjects  required  on  the  journal  which  absorbed  most 
of  his  energies  afforded  no  stimulus  for  anything 
so  Rembrandtesque.  He  brought  such  possibilities 
of  style  over  from  his  romantic  period  in  The  Corn- 
hill  Magazine , and  it  must  be  admitted  that  the 
effect  in  this  drawing  seems  too  powerful  for  the 
music-hall  comedy  it  has  to  carry  off. 

A picture  bewitching  on  account  of  the  grace 
it  contains  is  that  called  “ Berkeley  Square.”  Du 
Maurier  had  quickly  perceived  that  the  quality  of 
grace  could  well  survive  side  by  side  with  any 
amount  of  humour.  It  is  interesting  to  try  and 
imagine  what  Phil  May  would  have  made  of 
the  scene.  It  was  intended  for  a poignant  one,  but 
it  becomes  chiefly  a very  attractive  one  in  du 
Maurier’s  hands,  the  pathos  lying  with  the  wording 
rather  than  the  picture. 

The  drawing  affords  us  many  characteristics  of 
his  work.  The  lady  in  white  reclining  in  the 
vehicle  is  a very  embodiment  of  elegance,  and  the 
discerning  drawing  that  defines  the  coachman  repays 
observation,  as  also  the  “ style  ” with  which  the 
white  horse  is  swiftly  shaded  in.  It  was  once  the 
custom  for  the  carriages  of  people  in  fashion  to 
draw  up  under  the  trees  in  Berkeley  Square,  in 

M 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


178 

summer,  for  tea  brought  out  from  Gunter’s.  Last 
summer  one  of  the  evening  papers  asked  the  question 
why  the  custom  had  lapsed.  Du  Mauricr’s  drawing 
of  the  scene  was  accompanied  by  the  following  lines, 
which  perhaps  provide  the  answer. 

Berkeley  Square,  5 p.m. 

The  weather  is  warm  as  I walk  in  the  Square, 

And  observe  her  barouche  standing  tranquilly  there, 

It  is  under  the  trees,  it  is  out  of  the  sun, 

In  the  corner  where  Gunter  retails  a plain  bun. 

How  solemn  she  looks,  I have  seen  a mute  merrier — 
Plumes  a sky-blue,  and  her  pet  a sky-terrier — 

The  scene  is  majestic,  and  peaceful,  and  shady, 

Miss  Humble  sits  facing  : I pity  that  lady. 

Her  footman  goes  once,  and  her  footman  goes  twice, 

Ay,  and  each  time  returning  he  brings  her  an  ice. 

The  patient  Miss  Humble  receives,  when  he  comes, 

A diminutive  bun ; let  us  hope  it  has  plums ! 

Now  is  not  this  vile.  When  I tickle  my  chops, 

Which  I frequently  do,  I subside  into  shops : 

We  do  not  object  to  this  solemn  employment, 

But  why  afficher  such  material  enjoyment  ? 

Some  beggars  stand  by — I extremely  regret  it — 

T hey  wish  for  a taste.  Don’t  they  wish  they  may  get  it  ? 
She  thus  aggravates  both  the  humble  and  needy, 

You’ll  own  she  is  thoughtless,  perhaps  she  is  greedy. 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


179 

The  pictures  “Queen  Prima  Donna”  and  “Proxy” 
are  two  early  nursery  scenes  of  the  many  du  Maurier 
contributed  to  Punch . They  show  the  style,  the 
flowing  and  painter-like  stroke  of  the  pen  that 
revealed  such  a Rossetti-like  sense  of  material  beauty 
in  his  earlier  drawings — a style  worthy  of  the  re- 
finement of  the  subject  in  “ Proxy,”  the  charm  in  it 
of  sentiment  that  humour  strengthens  rather  than 
displaces.  The  drawing  expresses  childhood,  in 
circumstances  where  it  can  expand  without  loss 
of  bloom  through  contention  with  unhappy  circum- 
stances. It  shows  the  human  beauty  that  expands 
from  the  conserved  force  of  life  when  it  has  not 
to  contend  with  unfavourable  environment.  Beauty 
is  perhaps  the  one  certain  result  of  favourable  en- 
vironment. The  ideal  within  “ Socialism  ” which 
makes  even  its  opponents  Socialists  is  the  aspiration 
that  some  day  everyone  will  be  favourably  environed. 


§2 

It  was  a long  while  before  the  result  of  always 
working  for  a comic  paper  took  effect  on  du 
Maurier.  Not  for  some  time  did  the  knowledge 
that  everything  can  be  made  to  appear  ridiculous 


i8o 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


persuade  the  artist  to  believe  with  his  editor  that 
everything  is  ridiculous.  The  humour  of  his  sub- 
jects is  still  a part  and  not  the  whole  of  those 
subjects  in  his  art,  and  this  was  all  to  the  glory  of 
the  great  comic  paper  in  which  he  drew,  for  the 
humour  of  nothing  in  the  world  is  the  whole  of 
that  thing.  Farce  represents  it  so  to  be.  Du 
Maurier  had  no  genius  for  Farce.  He  responded 
to  actual  life  ; Farce  is  artificial  ; it  is  thus  that 
the  beauty  and  charm  as  well  as  the  humour  of  life 
were  involved  in  his  representations. 

Humour  for  humour’s  sake  has  brought  about 
the  downfall  of  every  comic  paper  that  has  tried  it. 
Punch  has  been  saved  from  it  by  the  wilful  serious- 
ness of  some  of  its  contributors.  Every  now  and 
then,  with  something  like  “ The  Song  of  the  Shirt  ” 
or,  in  another  vein,  a cartoon  of  Tenniel’s,  Punch 
has  been  brought  back  to  Reality  and  thus  to  the 
only  source  of  humour. 

In  the  drawing  “ Honour  where  Honour  is  Due  ” 
the  point  is  made  in  the  legend,  but  the  illustration 
illuminates  it  rather  brutally.  It  is  a picture  in 
which  we  find  du  Maurier  expressing  the  preju- 
dices of  the  old  regime  against  the  nouveau  riche . 
It  illustrates  a prejudice  rather  than  a fact.  It  was 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


1 8 1 


not  at  all  true  in  Victoria’s  reign  that  money  would 
carry  a man  anywhere.  In  that  time  the  man 
with  money  only  but  without  birth  wanted  better 
manners  than  the  man  with  everything  else  but 
money  to  get  him  into  Society.  It  was  less  the 
objectionableness  of  trade — as  du  Maurier  in  such 
a drawing  as  this  tried  to  imply — than  the  advance 
of  it  that  the  old  aristocracy  really  resented. 

A drawing  characteristic  of  the  artist’s  work  in 
the  eighties — in  1880  to  be  definite — is  that  entitled 
“ Mutual  Admirationists.”  It  really  dates  itself.  It 
is  descriptive  of  one  of  the  moods  of  “ passionate 
Brompton.”  The  satire  of  the  three  admiring 
ladies  is  perfect.  In  our  own  time  ladies  have 
gazed  like  this  at  genius.  Sometimes  genius  is 
really  there,  sometimes  it  is  not — but  the  profound 
and  undying  belief  of  women  in  it,  often  expressed 
beautifully  as  well  as  absurdly,  is  the  rain  from 
heaven  enabling  it  to  thrive.  In  the  expressive 
drawing  of  the  faces  and  the  bearing  of  the  three 
ladies  in  this  picture  we  have  du  Maurier’s  real 
humour — its  reality  in  its  closeness  to  life,  and  his 
genius  in  expressing  through  contour  the  whole  tale 
of  strange  aesthetic  enthusiasm. 

In  an  earlier  part  of  the  book  we  showed  that 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


182 

the  artist  exposed  “ aestheticism  ” from  the  inside. 
He  hardly  draws  any  figures  so  happily  as  those  of 
bored,  poetic  youths.  In  Sic  "Transit  Gloria  Mundi 
he  does  not  depict  “The  Duke”  of  the  scene  half 
so  convincingly  as  the  young  gossip  talking  to  the 
Duchess.  No  one  else  in  the  world  could  have 
drawn  so  well  that  young  man,  with  his  weak, 
but  Oxford  voice — it  is  almost  to  be  heard — and 
tired  but  graceful  manners. 

The  drawing  “ Post-Prandial  Pessimists  ” is  not 
so  sympathetic — which  means  that  it  is  not  so 
intimate  in  touch  and  full  of  knowledge.  The 
straight  mechanical  lines  with  which  the  clothes 
are  drawn  are  rather  meaningless.  This  treatment 
represents  a convention,  and  a bad  one,  because 
it  covers  the  paper  without  really  conveying  the 
elasticity  of  clothing  or  the  animation  of  muscle 
determining  its  folds.  At  this  stage  of  his  career 
du  Maurier  has  begun  to  work  rather  mechanically 
and  by  a recipe  ; he  is  less  curious  of  form  as  it 
actually  is  to  be  observed,  and  more  content  with 
just  making  a drawing  in  as  neat  and  as  business- 
like a way  as  possible,  with  the  wording  of  the 
legend  uppermost  in  his  thoughts.  The  artist  is 
disappearing  in  the  “ Punch  Artist.”  The  drawing 


“ Sic  Transit  Gloria  Mundi!” 

a By  the  way,  Duchess,  supposing  that  we  do  succeed  in  getting 
the  House  of  Lords  abolished  this  Session,  won’t  it  be  a great 
blow  to  the  Duke  ? ” 

“ Yes,  if  he  ever  hears  of  it ; but  I shan’t  tell  him,  you  know  ! ” 

Punch , 

March  22,  1884. 


RGE  D M AURIER 

exposed  “ z theticism”  from  the  inside, 
ily  draws  any  g ures  so  happily  as  those  of 
•rd,  poetic  youths.  In  Sic  Transit  Gloria  Mttndi 

The  Duke”  of  the  scene  half 
i ivincingly  a e young  gossip  talking  to  the 
else  in  the  world  could  have 
drawn  so  1 ibnuM  jiitolE)  cftfc,lweak, 


rost-rranoiai  resign 
leans  that  it 

* ! woinl  uov  fmirf  I Is!  iVuKcte  I Hid  : li  lava  a/i  Yi  .83  Y 

The* 

straight  me(  il  lines  w^^^which  the  clothes 

cr  nt^Slngt€^.R^ri  ; s *catment_ 
vention,  and  a bad  one,  because  - 

( King  or  the  animation  of  muscle 

has  un  to  work  rather  mechanically  . 
and  by  a recipe^  he  is  less  curious  of  form  as  it 
ctually  is  to  be  observed,  and  more  content  with 
just  making  a drawing  in  as  neat  and  as  business- 
possible,  with  the  wording  of  the 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS  183 

of  detail,  for  instance,  inclines  to  be  blotty  ; it  is 
no  longer  affectionately  done.  At  least  the  pre- 
Raphaelite  in  du  Maurier  is  now  dead.  The  artist’s 
early  drawings,  where  his  native  tastes  break  into 
expression,  are  pre-Raphaelite  in  feeling.  He  made 
a bad  impressionist,  a thoroughly  bad  imitator  of 
Keene’s  success  with  impressionism.  He  lost  what 
was  most  his  own  when  he  “ threw  over  ” his  belief 
in  glamour,  and  took  to  laughing  at  his  own  en- 
thusiasms ; when  he  ceased  to  confine  his  mockery 
to  things  that  he  hated,  as  he  hated  the  aesthetic 
movement.  The  gods  revenged  his  satire  of  the 
inspiration  of  the  pre-Raphaelites  in  the  ‘Tale  of 
Camelot  by  taking  that  inspiration  away  from  him- 
self. 

The  drawing  “ Things  one  would  rather  have  ex- 
pressed Differently  ” (reproduced  opposite  page  1 94) 
represents  du  Maurier’s  final  phase  at  its  very  best. 
It  has  the  precision  of  workmanship  of  a thing 
executed  to  a well-tried  recipe,  It  is  dainty  as  well 
as  precise  ; and  still  in  the  way  the  dimpling  of  soft 
dress  fabric  is  touched  in,  sympathetic,  and  char- 
acteristic of  the  earlier  du  Maurier.  It  belongs  to 
the  Trilby  period,  but  is  better  than  the  illustrations 
to  Trilby . 


184 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


§ 3 

The  unpublished  sketches  which  we  have  been 
allowed  to  reproduce  from  du  Maurier’s  private 
sketch-book,  and  which  we  are  using  as  end  pieces, 
are  very  interesting.  In  the  strictest  artistic  sense 
there  is  very  little  of  the  art  of  pen-drawing  to-day. 
In  the  work  done  with  the  pen  for  modern  illustra- 
tion the  inking-in  is  too  much  of  an  after  process  of 
ink  upon  pencil  work.  The  quality  of  the  drawing 
is  really  determined  by  the  pencil,  which  is  the 
actual  medium  of  work.  In  going  over  the  pencil 
work  the  ink-line  follows  it  in  many  cases  so  closely 
that  it  cannot  assert  the  characteristics  of  penman- 
ship. But  in  making  preliminary  small  studies  for 
a picture  with  the  pen,  an  artist,  feeling  less  necessity 
for  a certain  kind  of  accuracy,  often  uses  the  pen 
much  more  freely,  sympathetically,  and  happily 
because  he  is  actually  drawing  with  it  and  not 
merely  following  over  forms  determined  first  in 
another  medium.  We  have  printed  the  reproduc- 
tions from  the  sketch-book  about  their  original 
size.  Many  of  them  express  the  freer  qualities  of 
real  pen-drawing — an  autographic  character  in  the 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS  185 

line-work  akin  to  that  secured  in  original  etching. 
The  pen  is  an  instrument  that  works  best  on  a small 
scale,  in  which  it  can  be  manipulated  flexibly  in  the 
fingers  ; in  this  it  is  like  the  etching-needle  itself. 
The  artist  working  direct  with  his  pen  has  before 
him  while  he  draws  the  actual  effect  of  his  ink  on 
paper,  instead  of  having  to  imagine  it  in  advance 
while  he  works  out  his  subject  in  pencil.  The 
vignette  of  the  man  lying  back  in  his  chair  near 
the  leaded  window  (page  147)  has  qualities  in  the 
shadow  of  the  window  that  we  look  to  find  in  vain  in 
du  Maurier’s  professional  work.  It  is  a sympathetic 
pen-drawing  ; the  lines  express  much  more  than  a 
formula — they  secure  a dramatic  play  of  shadow. 

This  memorandum — for  that  is  what  the  drawing 
is — was,  we  believe,  never  used  by  du  Maurier,  though 
some  of  the  sketches  appearing  here — that,  for  in- 
stance, of  the  lady  with  a child  in  her  arms  (page  64), 
and  that  of  the  girl  in  a window-seat,  wearing  a 
frilled  dress  (facing  page  176) — can  be  found  serving 
as  initial  letters  and  head-pieces  in  the  early  Cornhill 
Magazines , carried  no  farther  in  finish  than  they 
are  here. 

So  far  as  one  can  judge  from  the  study  for  an 
illustration  to  Wives  and  Daughters  (facing  page  36), 


1 86 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


which  we  print  with  the  illustration  as  it  actually 
appeared  in  the  Cornhilly  seems  to  show  that  the  artist 
could  carry  the  conception  of  a drawing  a long  way 
without  reference  to  a model.  The  sketch  of  the 
girl  near  the  window  affords  us,  in  its  Whistlerian 
suggestiveness  and  refinement,  another  instance  of 
the  purely  artistic  qualities  which  some  critics  have 
denied  du  Maurier  the  ability  to  secure,  his  profes- 
sional ready  style  being  too  quickly  accepted  as 
completely  expressing  to  the  full  his  artistic  nature. 
Du  Maurier  seems  to  have  purchased  his  great 
journalistic  and  worldly  success  at  the  expense  of 
qualities  not  altogether  dissimilar  from  those  shown 
in  the  works  of  Whistler,  his  companion  at  the 
beginning  of  his  career.  The  pen  sketch  referred 
to  of  the  girl  by  the  window,  the  soft  shadow  out- 
lining her  face  and  falling  upon  the  chair,  the  play 
of  the  line  that  suggests  the  contour  of  her  figure, 
all  reveal  something  of  the  refined  skill,  economy, 
and  sensitiveness  of  expression  that  distinguished 
everything  of  Whistler’s. 

And  du  Maurier’s  handwriting  — witness  the 
manuscript  for  his  French  version  of  Byron’s  “Sun 
of  the  sleepless — melancholy  star!  ” which  appeared 
in  the  Illustrated  Magazine — is  characteristic  of  an 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS  187 

exquisite  artist  in  its  pleasant  nervous  beauty  of 
style.  It  is  the  writing  of  one  who  could  have 
etched.  Etching  demands  only  the  most  auto- 
graphic features  of  a man's  draughtsmanship  ; it 
prevents  him  from  spreading  himself  in  the  irre- 
levancies  of  space-covering  lines  necessary  in  work 
done  to  meet  the  demand  of  the  Editor’s  measure. 
The  demand  must  have  its  effect  on  those  who 
meet  it,  in  diluting  the  intimate  quality  of  their 
work,  so  that  it  is  not  always  easy  to  estimate  the 
real  strength  of  artistic  impulse  in  it. 

As  art  becomes  more  self-expressive  it  becomes 
more  subjective  ; it  demands  that  the  student  of  it 
shall  enter  into  the  artist’s  feelings  ; it  does  not  go 
out  to  meet  him  and  explain  itself  after  the  fashion 
of  the  humbler  forms  of  illustration  with  their 
purely  objective  ideal.  It  is  only  an  educated  public 
that  will  allow  an  illustrator  the  spontaneous  style  of 
drawing  that  some  of  the  wittiest  French  illustrators 
indulge  in.  In  England  the  demand  for  what  is 
wrongly  inferred  to  be  good  draughtsmanship  has 
quenched  spontaneity  in  illustration. 

Photographs,  which  are  driving  pen  illustrations 
out  of  the  illustrated  papers,  are  in  themselves  many 
of  them  highly  artistic  and  beautiful,  but  in  another 


1 88 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


sense  familiarity  with  photographs  has  damaged  the 
public  sense  of  art  and  lost  us  the  taste  for  merry, 
irresponsible  freedom  of  drawing.  There  was  no 
poverty  in  du  Maurier’s  skill  in  illustration  ; 
but  one  is  compelled  to  believe  his  resources  as  an 
artist  never  fully  revealed  themselves  for  the  lack 
of  the  encouragement  which  only  a small  cultivated 
public  is  prepared  to  give.  He  reconciled  himself 
to  the  big  public  with  its  less  refined  standard. 
His  companion  Whistler  remained  loyal  to  the  few 
who,  by  their  quick  response,  could  follow  the  work 
of  his  genius  in  its  last  refinements.  Du  Maurier 
had  more  artistic  energy  than  Whistler,  but  he  lived 
in  a less  exalted  artistic  mood.  Comparison  of  this 
kind  would  be  irrelevant  but  for  the  fact  that  behind 
all  du  Maurier’s  work  in  Punch  there  seems  to  hover 
an  artist  of  a different  kind  from  the  one  which  it 
was  possible  for  Mr.  Punch  to  employ. 

§ 4 

Sometimes  we  hear  critics  discussing  whether 
beauty  is  or  is  not  the  object  of  Art.  As  a matter 
of  fact  it  does  not  really  matter  much  whether 
beauty  is  the  object,  since  it  is  always  the  result 


Post-Prandial  Pessimists 


Scene — The  smoking-room  at  the  Decadents. 


First  Decadent  (M.A.,  Oxon.).  “ After  all,  Smythe,  what  would 
Life  be  without  Coffee  r ” 

Second  Decadent  (B.A.,  Camb.).  “True,  Jeohnes,  True  ! And  yet, 
after  all,  what  is  Life  with  Coffee  ? ” 

Piinchy 

October  15,  1892. 


i ! with  photographs  has  damaged  the 
he  of  art  and  lost  us  the  taste  for  merry, 

ponsible  freedom  of  drawing.  There  was  no 
in  du  Maurier’s  skill  in  illustration  ; 
died  to  believe  his  resources  as  an 
tul  the  lack 

bto  i,  n,onv§M9fe^Ls^tivated 
jive.  He  reconciled  himself 


bluow  ijsHw  ^Hr/rnS  Air,  >\  .(-.no 


Whistler  remaihe 


bnA  ! 3UlT 

last  81  ©fcF  H?faer 

tfea?ftWhistler,  but  he  lived 
r m oari  son  of  this 


1 elevant  but  for  the  fact  that  behind 

work  in  Punch  there  seems  to  hover 
Afferent  kind  from  the  one  which  it  • 
lor  Mr.  Punch  to  employ. 


§ 4 

ear  critics  discussing  whether 
he  object  of  Art.  As  a matter 
ally  matter  much  whether 
nee  it  is  always  the  result 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS  189 

of  true  art.  Craft  is  the  language  of  an  artist’s 
sympathies — inspiration  flagging  at  the  point  where 
sympathy  evaporates.  The  quality  of  craft  is  the 
barometer  of  the  degree  of  the  artist’s  response  to 
some  aspect  of  life.  Absence  of  beauty  in  crafts- 
manship indicates  absence  of  inspiration,  the  failure 
to  respond  to  life. 

Though  du  Maurier  fell  short  of  Keene  in  breadth 
of  inspiration,  there  were  still  aspects  of  life  which 
he  represented  better  than  that  master,  phases  of 
life  which  he  approached  with  greater  eagerness. 
He  expressed  perfectly  once  and  for  all  in  art  the 
life  of  the  drawing-room  in  the  great  days  of  the 
drawing-room,  as  did  Watteau  the  life  of  the  Court 
in  the  great  days  of  a Court.  Men  take  their  rank 
in  art  by  expressing  completely  something  which 
others  have  expressed  incidentally. 

There  is  now  the  glamour  of  the  past  upon  du 
Maurier’s  work  in  Punch.  The  farther  we  are 
away  in  distance  of  time  from  the  date  of  the  exe- 
cution of  a work  of  art  the  more  legendary  and 
fabulous  its  tale  becomes.  In  good  work  forgotten 
costumes  seem  bizarre  but  not  preposterous.  When- 
ever in  a picture  a thing  looks  preposterous — except 
in  the  art  of  caricature,  and  du  Maurier  was  not  a 


1 90  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

caricaturist — the  representation  of  it  in  the  picture 
is  a bad  one.  We  never  find  in  the  paintings  of 
Vandyke,  Velasquez,  Gainsborough,  or  other  great 
artists,  however  difficult  the  period  of  fashion  with 
which  they  had  to  deal,  anything  preposterous — 
always  something  beautiful,  however  unreasonable 
in  ornamentation  and  clothes.  Sometimes  it  is  said 
that  beauty  and  simplicity  are  the  same.  But  we 
have  to  remember  that  complexity  remains  simple 
whilst  unconsciousness  of  complexity  remains.  There 
were  several  periods  of  dress  that  retained  beauty  and 
complexity  side  by  side.  We  find  beauty  to-day  in 
the  avoidance  of  complexity,  because,  being  at  last 
really  civilised,  we  are  impatient  of  irrelevance  even 
in  dress.  Du  Maurier  was  never  for  a moment 
conscious  that  there  was  in  all  the  rigmarole  of 
Victorian  costume  and  decoration  anything  re- 
dundant. He  seemed  to  take,  in  decoration  for 
instance,  the  draped  mantelpiece  with  its  bows  of 
ribbons,  and  pinned  fans  quite  as  seriously  as  Velas- 
quez took  the  hooped  skirt  in  costume.  Artifice  is 
fascinating  in  those  with  whom  it  is  natural  to  be 
artificial.  When  du  Maurier  thought  he  recognised 
merely  a passing  “ fashion  ” and  hit  out  at  it, 
he  made  far  less  interesting  pictures  for  posterity 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


191 


than  when  he  took  the  outward  aspect  of  the  age 
he  lived  in  as  being  in  the  natural  order  of  things. 


§ 5 

The  Victorian  age — which  invented  Punch , the 
greatest  humorous  paper  the  world  has  ever  known 
— had  no  sense  of  humour.  It  was  the  age  of 
serious  people.  The  secret  of  the  character  of  Punch 
as  an  organ  of  satire  is  that  it  represents  the  times, 
scorning  only  what  the  English  people  scorn.  This 
representative  attitude  is,  I believe,  quite  puzzling 
to  many  editors  of  foreign  publications,  who  seem 
to  conceive  the  business  of  satire  to  be  mockery  of 
everything. 

At  one  happy  period  of  its  career  Punch  set 
itself  a very  high  artistic  standard.  The  paper 
intended  to  avail  itself  of  the  services  of  whatever 
artistic  genius  it  could  attach  to  itself  by  attrac- 
tive emoluments.  It  then  pieced  out  its  satiric 
business  among  its  distinguished  staff,  above  every- 
thing else  artists,  perhaps  not  one  of  them  animated 
with  that  fervour  of  attack  which  is  the  genius  of 
foreign  caricature.  These  men,  by  their  several 
temperaments,  founded  the  characteristics  and  tradi- 


192 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


tions  of  Punch . They  were  perfectly  friendly,  not 
at  all  anxious  to  make  themselves  unpleasant ; and 
the  traditions  of  Punch  remain  the  same  to  this  day. 
It  would  always  rather  laugh  with  people  than  against 
them. 


§ 6 

Du  Maurier’s  novels  are  a proof  of  what  an 
illustrator  he  was  by  nature  ; he  seemed  to  con- 
ceive matter  and  illustration  together.  It  would 
be  strange  to  read  either  of  his  novels  without  their 
drawings.  Probably  his  tales  would  have  failed  of 
their  immediate  success  but  for  the  wealth  of 
admirable  illustration  which  make  them  unique 
among  novels.  The  illustrations  increase  perceptibly 
the  appeal  of  the  text.  The  draughtsmanship  is  so 
well  identified  with  its  purpose,  that  we  think  of  it 
always  in  connection  with  a “ page.”  In  these  days, 
when  art  editors  think  that  any  picture  reduced 
to  size  will  make  an  “illustration,”  it  is  pleasant 
to  take  down  our  old  Punches.  Qualities  of 
impressionism  which  are  everything  in  a picture 
hanging  on  a wall  to  be  seen  across  the  breakfast 
table,  will  seldom  be  made  suitable  for  book- 
embellishment  simply  by  process  of  reduction. 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


*93 


Du  Maurier  established  a more  intimate  relation- 
ship with  the  public  who  admired  his  drawings  than 
any  humorous  artist  has.  In  America,  where  for 
many  years  the  opinion  of  English  Society  seems  to 
have  been  formed  from  his  drawings,  the  unseen 
author  of  them  was  thought  of  quite  affectionately. 
The  immediate  success  of  his  novels  there  took  its 
rise  from  this  fact.  The  personal  letters  which  he 
received  from  America  with  the  success  of  Trilby 
ran  into  many  hundreds.  There  must  have  been 
something  to  account  for  all  this — some  curious 
flavour  in  everything  he  did,  just  one  of  those 
secret  influences  which  so  often  put  the  technical 
rules  of  criticism  out  of  court  in  dealing  with 
an  artist’s  work. 

He  succeeded  to  Leech  in  the  Society  subjects, 
but  he  himself  has  not  had  a successor  in  these 
themes.  No  one  has  been  able  to  enter  the  same 
field  as  worthily,  for  instance,  as  Mr.  Raven-Hill 
entered  a field  once  worked  by  Keene.  There  have 
been  better  draughtsmen — from  the  photographic 
point  of  view — than  du  Maurier  attempting  to  fill 
his  place.  But  “a  place”  on  a newspaper  can 
only  be  filled  by  a personality.  It  is  artistic  per- 
sonality that  has  been  wanting  in  recent  years  in 

N 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


194 

Punch  on  the  side  of  the  fashionable  satire  which 
Leech  and  du  Maurier  successively  had  made  their 
own. 

We  have  pointed  out  that  his  work  in  Punch 
was  at  its  best  when  he  was  going  most  into  Society. 
That  is  characteristic  of  all  artists — that  their  inspira- 
tion flames  or  dies  in  proportion  to  the  immediacy 
of  their  contact  with  actuality.  Having  chosen  the 
world  for  his  theme,  he  could  make  nothing  of  it 
when  he  ceased  to  go  out.  In  his  earlier  and 
middle  period,  living  in  evening-clothes,  he  drew 
with  an  inexhaustible  impulse.  When  he  thought 
he  had  his  “ world  ” by  heart  and  could  reconstruct 
with  the  aid  of  some  obliging  friends  who  con- 
sented to  pose,  he  gave  us  pleasant  pictures  of  his 
friends  posing,  but  the  great  record  he  had  put 
together  in  the  sixties,  seventies,  the  early  eighties 
of  the  London  of  his  time  was  at  an  end.  Then 
it  was  that  he  repeated  his  formulae,  his  “ Things 
one  would  have  expressed  otherwise,”  and  others 
of  like  series  without  introducing  any  freshness  of 
situation,  carrying  out  the  brief  dialogues  with 
figures  in  which  there  was  little  variation  of  char- 
acter— as  little  variation  as  there  is  in  the  same 
model  employed  on  two  different  days.  All  this  has 


Things  One  Would  Rather  have  Expressed 
Differently 

Fair  Hostess . u Good-night,  Major  Jones.  We’re  supposed  to  break- 
fast at  nine  ; but  we’re  not  very  punctual  people.  Indeed,  the 
later  you  appear  to-morrow  morning,  the  better  pleased  we 
shall  all  be  ! ” 

May  13,  1893. 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


du  Maurier  successively  had  made  their 
ted  out  that  his  work  in  Punch 
iracteristic  of  all  artjsts — that  their  inspira- 


,<J  Oi  b*soqq^  di'tiW  ' mU  ”<  ; 

ow  b3^K3lq  laJi-jfl  orb  -gaiiftocn  woyom  of  *Jxj3qqK  jjov  i3lr,I 


M&y  ,gfv%  J could  reconstruct 

aid  of  some  obliging  friends  who  con- 

friends  posing,  hpt  the  great  record  he  had  put 
in  ‘ c sixties,  seventies,  the  early  eighties 
dot  of  his  time  was  at  an  end. 

jpeated  his  formulae,  his  “ Things 

-of  like  series  w ;hout  introducing  any  freshness  -of 

in  which  there  was  little  variation  of  char- 

rmployed  on  two  differ  dis  has 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


*95 

been  touched  upon  in  this  book,  but  we  must  insist 
upon  it,  for  the  memory  of  the  real  du  Maurier 
has  nothing  so  much  to  fear  as  our  memory  of 
du  Maurier  when  he  was,  as  an  artist,  not  quite 
himself. 

We  hope  we  have  performed  the  funeral  of  the 
less  deserving  side  of  his  work,  thereby  releasing 
the  immortal  part  of  it  to  the  fuller  recognition  due 
to  it  from  connoisseurs. 

All  du  Maurier’s  drawings  in  his  best  period  are 
distinguished  by  the  sharpness  of  contrast  between 
black  and  white  in  them.  Ruskin,  whilst  approving 
in  his  Art  of  England  of  du  Maurier’s  use  of  black  to 
indicate  colour,  thought  he  carried  the  black  and 
white  contrast  to  chess-board  pattern  excess.  In 
later  years,  submitting  to  the  influence  of  Keene’s 
method,  in  which  black  is  always  used  to  secure 
effects  of  tone  instead  of  colour,  du  Maurier’s  style 
underwent  a transformation  which,  from  the  purely 
artistic  point  of  view,  was  not  to  its  advantage. 
Keene’s  method  was  justified  in  his  extreme  sensi- 
tiveness to  what  painters  define  as  “ values  ” — the 
relation  in  tone  of  one  surface  to  another.  This 
particular  kind  of  sensitiveness  was  not  characteristic 
of  du  Maurier’s  vision,  nor  was  a style  so  dependent 


196  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 

upon  subtlety  of  the  kind  suited  to  express  his  mind. 
And  here  it  is  interesting  to  emphasise  the  connection 
which  is  so  often  overlooked  between  temperament 
and  style.  In  the  observation  of  human  character 
itself  du  Maurier  always  perceived  the  broad  and 
distinctive  features  ; the  broad  ones  of  type  rather 
than  the  subtle  ones  of  individuals  ; things  for 
him  were  either  black  or  white,  beautiful  or  ugly. 
The  twilight  in  which  beauty  and  ugliness  merge, 
in  which  the  heroic  and  the  villainous  mingle, 
was  unknown  to  him — a region  in  which  the  white 
figure  of  a hero  is  as  impossible  as  the  black  one 
of  a real  villain.  He  observes  subtly  enough  the 
airs  of  those  who  interest  him,  but  he  is  not  interested 
in  everybody.  He  doesn’t  think  much  of  people 
who,  through  lack  either  of  physical  or  moral  stature, 
can  enter  the  drawing-room  unperceived.  He  is 
not  sympathetic  to  neutral  characters.  It  was 
because  the  Victorians  cultivated  magnificence  that 
his  somewhat  rhetorical  art  described  them  with 
such  reality.  His  pictures  were  a mirror  to  the 
age.  Keene  was  like  Shakespeare — the  types  he  drew 
might  change  in  costume  with  the  times,  but  would 
reappear  in  every  generation.  But  du  Maurier  only 
drew  Victorians.  And  thus  his  art  has  that  vivid 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


197 

local  colour  which  is  the  vital  characteristic  of 
effective  satire. 

It  is  significant  that  the  artist  had  nursed  through- 
out his  youth  an  enthusiasm  for  Byron.  Until 
the  influence  of  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw  had  chilled  the 
air,  England  remained  under  the  spell  of  that 
romantic  poet.  The  Victorians  in  everything 
betrayed  the  love  of  glamour.  They  exalted  the 
unknown  Disraeli  out  of  sheer  delight  at  his  Byronic 
ability  to  irradiate  everything  with  romance.  There 
has  never  been  a moment  like  the  present  in  which 
there  is  a complete  absence  of  pride  in  tradition, 
which  is  pleasure  in  romance.  But  the  reason  is 
simple.  Our  traditions  belong  to  the  pre-industrial 
time.  The  romance  of  the  Victorians  was  a last 
glow  in  the  sky.  We  might  even  go  as  far  as  to 
read  an  occult  significance  into  the  art  of  Turner,  the 
great  painter  of  the  sunset.  We  nowadays  go 
back  to  du  Maurier’s  pictures,  where  the  after-glow 
remains,  and  they  seem  separated  from  us  by  some- 
thing thicker  than  time,  as  if  a great  wall  had  been 
built  up  between  the  age  of  the  twopenny  tube  and 
that  of  the  carriage-and-pair.  And  lest  there  should 
remain  a link  between  them,  over  which  we  might 
be  sentimental,  the  face  of  Buckingham  Palace  is  to 


GEORGE  DU  MAURIER 


198 

be  despoiled,  the  long  grey  outline,  characteristic  of 
English  monarchy  in  its  reticence  and  repose,  is,  we 
imagine,  to  give  place  to  something  in  the  image  of  a 
prosperous  Insurance  Office. 

Already  du  Maurier’s  art  is  very  precious  ; the 
environment  of  the  people  whom  he  depicted  is 
everywhere  being  smashed  up.  Our  curiosity  is 
sharpened  for  everything  that  remains  to  reflect 
those  people  to  us.  Our  debt  to  the  mirror  of 
du  Maurier’s  art  increases  every  hour. 


Printed  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  6*  Co. 
Edinburgh  London 


— 


O,  a r? c/y  r 


/ 


